Alone
by dart53
Summary: Garrison has cause to regret his wish for a little time alone.
1. Chapter 1

**ALONE**

_This story is associated with the episode __**War Games **__so if you haven't seen it, be warned, there are some spoilers. And, as others have said, 'still don't own it, still don't get any money for it.' Enjoy. (For whatever reason of it's very own FFN will not let me format the way I usually do, so, sorry) dale_

* * *

It took a few moments for him to figure out where he was, finally it was the hissing from the radiator and the cloying smell of gasoline that tipped him off. He was laying against the steering wheel of a jeep that was nose down in a ditch off the side of a road. How he got there was another puzzle. Concentrating on it was hard, his mind seemed to want to wander, but he thought he remembered a bright flash in the road… _Must have been a bombing raid, _he thought_._ He tried to push himself up so he could get a look at his surroundings to confirm his theory but he didn't seem to have enough strength to manage it. Relaxing back against the steering wheel he remembered the Home Guard would be out checking the roads right after the 'all clear'. All he had to do was wait…

g

…Ice cold rain hitting the back of his neck brought him awake with a jolt that got all sorts of unpleasant things started. Everywhere seemed to hurt at once, but his left knee drew special attention. It seemed to be jammed up under the dash. Garrison tried hitching the leg back a bit only to have pain flash up into his hip and down into the floor of the jeep through his foot. The sharp gasp that caused, and the discomfort in his chest that went with it, told him he'd probably bruised some ribs on the steering wheel too. Pain in his left hand flared in time with his heart beat and there was an underlying throb to the lack of feeling in the left side of his face that promised to turn very unpleasant as that numbness wore off.

_Rain? Maybe that bright flash was really just a lightening strike. No one will be checking the roads if it's just a simple storm._ Craig took a careful breath, brought his right hand up and gripped the steering wheel. _This isn't going to feel very good_, he thought, and he pushed until he was leaning back against the seat cushion. He tried to get a look around but it was nearly dark. _Funny_. He was almost certain it had only been mid afternoon when he took off.

g

"Anybody seen the Warden?"

"He took off before lunch. Ain't seen him since." Chief answered. "Why?" The question was posed with a hopeful glint in his eye. He was trying his best to teach Goniff to play chess. The young scout was generally pretty patient when it came to anything that didn't have to do with Casino, but Goniff's constant squirming around and all of his questions were starting to get to him. It didn't help that the little pick pocket persisted in trying to use the chess pieces like checkers and kept making those galloping sounds every time he moved the knight either….

"Well I figure we did a good enough job the last time out that we deserve a little break in town." Casino lounged in the doorway, grinning at the sweat frustration had helped bead across Chief's forehead.

Actor dropped the book he was reading into his lap. "And you are certain the Lieutenant will share your opinion, Casino?" They'd been back for more than forty-eight hours now, their own debriefs were done, and he agreed with the safecracker, they deserved a little time off the grounds. They just hadn't been given permission yet…, but that had never stopped them before.

Casino shrugged in the con man's direction. It was late afternoon and he was bored. He decided he'd rather risk a dressing down by the Warden and a couple of trips around the obstacle course than stay cooped up in the mansion. "Hey, we know him good enough now, right? He'd give his OK if he was around. It just must a slipped his mind or somethin'."

"Think you can sell the Sergeant Major on that one, Pappy?" It didn't really matter. Half the fun of going off grounds was getting past Rawlins and his crew. Chief watched and listened as Goniff galloped his knight across the board once more…He was more than ready for a break.

"Well, see… he's off the grounds right now too…. So…."

Goniff didn't want to be thought of as a quitter or anything, but annoying Chief into letting him off the hook on learning this chess stuff hadn't worked out exactly like he'd planned. Going into town to the pub sounded loads better than sitting here trying to remember all the crazy rules about how every piece moved different. "Blimey!" He grinned around at the other three, and as he swept the pieces off the board into the box that held the set, he kept one secreted in his hand… maybe if a piece went missing Chiefy wouldn't try and teach him again. "What'r we waitin' for? Let's go!"

g

He'd tied his coat around him when he left the meeting in London but he hadn't buttoned it up, and he'd lost his cap somewhere. Rain was coursing off his head and face, soaking down into the collar of his shirt and seeping its way into his jacket. Garrison started to shake and decided to lay it to the drenching he was getting rather than any serious injury or shock from the accident. If it was just from the cold rain as soon as he got inside where it was warm and dry everything would be alright. If it was from the other, … Well, then he was in a little more trouble than he wanted to admit to right now. He was still shoved back against the back of the seat, he had to keep his right arm stiff to stay there and it was beginning to tremble with the effort. All he had to do was get out of the jeep and go find someplace where he could get out of the rain… Craig tried to keep track of the throbbing in his face and leg for a while, it didn't seem to be getting any faster. His breathing seemed to be steady too, it hurt, but it wasn't going shallow on him. _No internal bleeding then, no problem with the lungs. Alright, _he ordered himself, _let's get this done. _

The left side of the jeep was lower than the right. He could pull himself around using the steering wheel and just slide out that way. Seemed like a simple enough plan but when he tried it there was just one little problem. The left knee didn't really want to bend, Craig forced it anyway and his breath caught in his throat.. He got turned in the right direction but he couldn't convince that damned left leg to pull up high enough to swing over the side on its own and he lost his balance when he let go of the steering wheel to lift it up with his hands. Stars exploded across his vision when the shift jammed into his ribs as he fell backwards in the seat and then he couldn't seem to get himself upright again. He couldn't get a good enough grip on the steering wheel, the best he could manage was to twist off the gearshift and lay draped over the seats. The effort made him dizzy and it was so much easier to just lay there. Rain splattered down out of the sky and the last conscious thought he had was how good the cold water felt on the side of his face.

g

"Come on, we'd best be back at the mansion before the Warden shows up." Actor lifted the glass off the table and finished his wine. It wasn't up to his usual standards, but it was the best the pub had to offer.

There was another roll of thunder and the sound of heavy rain reached them even in this lower level. "Are you nuts. He's hole up in London somewhere till this blows over. We got all night."

"And how can you be so sure about that, Casino?"

"Jeeze! Cause I checked the motor pool and he took off in one a the open jeeps.. That's how!" Casino smirked across at the Italian know it all. "Even if he took off before the storm started he'd have to pull off somewhere til it blows over. All we gotta do is keep an ear out. We leave when it stops and we still beat him back to the house."

Actor couldn't argue with the man's logic and he had no desire to hike back to the mansion through this down pour. Besides if the Warden had returned to the manor and found them missing he would have already been in to pick them up, or at least called down to the Doves to make certain they were there. He scanned the faces of the men ranged around the table and knew that, even with Casino's grumbling, they would probably return to the mansion if he took the lead. There was another roll of thunder and the cadence of the rain increased. "Well in that case," the con man shrugged and then raised his hand and beckoned to the waiter. "I believe dinner is in order."

g

The rain had stopped. There were people moving around him, he could hear them talking in hushed tones… but what he heard through the roaring in his ears didn't make much sense…

"Dieses Auto ist zu uns unbrauchbar."

"Es gab ein Auto am letzten Haus."

"Gut! Wir nehmen ihn."

"Und der Mann?"

"Er auch."

"Dieses ist eine dumme Idee, Karl. Dieser Mann wird und zu uns unbrauchbar verletzt.". The voice was wary, practical as it continued. "Wir müssen uns schnell bewegen, und er wird uns verlangsamen."

"Sie sind falsch!" The answer came in an excited, optimistic tone. "Die Verletzungsmittel ist er nützlicher."

"Wie?"

"Des Amerikaners geben ihren verletzten Urlaub. Sie verhätscheln sie." The speaker was obviously impressed with his own knowledge of their enemy. _"_Es ist für die diese Behörden er ist weg von seinen normalen Aufgaben annehmbar."

"Dann beharren Sie." And it was just as obvious that this man didn't share his companion's confidence. " Dann möchten Sie ihn mit uns nehmen_?" _

"Wir müssen, Wilhelm. Er stellt uns sicheren Durchgang zur Verfügung."

"Dummkopf! Diese verrückte Idee wird uns getötet sehen!"

"Drücken Sie mich nicht, Leutnant Broiler! Ich bin verantwortlich für dieses jetzt." the statement was wrapped in growing ire and the dignity of superior rank

"Jawohl, Herr _Ober_leunant Lebrecht!" and accepted with sarcasm.

"Ruhe! Der Mann fängt an zu wecken." he cautioned in a carefully lowered voice

Garrison felt a hand close around his arm and another grab at his shoulder, pulling him up and pushing him back against the seat. The volume on the roaring inside his head spiked and he had to strain to hear over it.

"…all right?….. Lieutenant? I said, are you all right, sir?"


	2. Chapter 2

g

"What're you lot doing down here, then?"

"Us? We, uh…. Well, …. uh. We…." Actor was away from the table, up at the bar getting another pitcher of beer. Chief and Casino were off playing darts and Goniff hadn't been quick enough to get out of sight when he saw Sergeant Major Rawlins at the top of the stairs. "We was s'posed to meet the Warden down here." he lied, his words all coming out in a rush. There was probably no way the British NCO would believe that but it was the best he could come up with on such short notice.

"He's here then, is he?" Gil cast a hopeful look around the main room and couldn't keep the sound of relief out of his voice. He hadn't seen the Lieutenant from the top of the stairs but when he caught sight of the little pick pocket he'd made a bee line for him hoping that the CO would be somewhere close about. He certainly knew how often the Yank had to come in to collect these trouble makers from town when they ran afoul of the local peace keepers.

Goniff craned his neck to see how close Actor was to heading back to the table, Casino and Chief weren't going to be of any help to him, they were already edging toward the door for their own getaway. He didn't really know what to say next. The look on Rawlins' face, and the sound in his voice, made him feel like telling another lie wasn't quite fair, but he wasn't convinced that the truth would do him any good either, so he stalled. "Well, uh…. Actually…. See, it's like this…"

"Sergeant Major Rawlins, what a pleasant surprise." Actor waited until Rawlins' attention switched from Goniff to him. Usually it was Garrison who came after them, or he'd at least call down to the pub to tell them Rawlins was on his way…Having the man show up with no warning like this was unsettling. Obviously they'd become too complacent and needed a little work on, how did the Warden put it? …protecting their perimeter. Actor decided to try and buy himself a bit more time to determine just how much trouble they were in and what kind of approach was needed in dealing with their British NCO. He moved back towards the bar, calling over his shoulder. "Will you join us for a drink? I'll just get another glass from the barman."

"Wait right there, you!" Gil caught at the Italian's arm and his initial feeling of relief evaporated as he looked from one man to the other. Of course the Lieutenant wasn't here. It was just another one of the scams this lot always pulled when they were caught. "You were all told to stay on the grounds. What're you doing down here?" he demanded.

"But I'm sure you must have misunderstood, Sergeant Major. Lieutenant Garrison said he had a meeting to go to and he would be off the grounds, but I don't believe he said anything about confining us to…" Actor glanced down at his watch and let a look of dismay glide across his suave features. "Look how late it's gotten! How could I have let this happen? I'm very sorry Sergeant Major we seem to have gone past our regular curfew. Let me just gather the others and we can be on our way." He let his voice roll from contrite to hopeful as he continued. "I assume you've come into town in one of the trucks and we won't have to walk back through this storm." But as he turned away he was again halted by Rawlins' hand as it still gripped his arm.

"Hold on there!" He knew that little trick, and he wasn't having any of it tonight. When he had the con man's full attention again Gil lowered his voice. "You haven't seen anything of Lieutenant Garrison,… have you?"

Actor frowned down at the man a moment and then glanced over Rawlins' head, with a motion of his hand he called Casino and Chief back from their dart game. They'd been lingering over by the wall, slowly moving closer to the stairs, hoping for a quick get-a-way but reluctantly responded to his summons.

"We haven't seen him since shortly after breakfast. He left the grounds for his meeting and then you were gone as well." The con man shrugged. "That's why we decided to come down here." There was something in the Sergeant Major's voice and any thought of the con he was prepared to use on the man was forgotten. "What's wrong?"

"He's not back yet, is all. And that meeting of his shouldn't've taken this long. "'Ee should a been back before this weather set in." And it was part of his job to worry about such things, he thought, but Gil didn't voice that to this group of hoodlums, they'd never understand.

"Have you checked with someone at the headquarters building? Perhaps his meeting ran a bit longer and he just got caught by the storm." Their extra hours in the pub hinged on the weather keeping the Warden from traveling back from his meeting in London. Surely Sergeant Major Rawlins was sensible enough to realize that the bad weather was the cause for his delay.

"I 'aven't been able to get through to them." Rawlins admitted. "The storm's taken the phone lines down."

Actor smiled down on the Sergeant. "There, you see? He's merely been delayed by the storm and hasn't had a way to notify you. As soon as it clears up he'll be on the road again." He couldn't understand why the man was so concerned. Rawlins wasn't usually this jumpy.

"Well I hope you're right because he's got another meeting out at the manor first thing tomorrow," Gil still wasn't convinced. "It won't go very good for 'im if he misses it."

"Why? Who's it with, then?" Seemed to Goniff like all those Army blokes knew how to do sometimes was take meetin's. Take meetin's and send 'em out on jobs that was only half thought out.

"That Captain Ward's CO, is who." Rawlins frowned at the men now gathered around him. "'Ee must not a been satisfied with the report he got through Colonel Reynolds. He wants all the particulars about what happened to the captain straight from Lieutenant Garrison and he's coming out to the estate tomorrow to get 'em."

"Jeeze! The guy's out on medical leave." Casino planted his fists on his hips and scowled at the Sergeant Major as if he was the one responsible for enforcing Army regulations. "Aren't they s'posed to leave him alone til the docs say he's fit to go back and play human target again?"

"That's the way it's supposed to work, lad. But when the man with the question's a bloomin' General…"

g

A concerned face swam into view. A face topped by a wool cap and floating above a heavy woolen coat. There was another figure standing off to the front of the vehicle lighting them up with the beam from a flashlight that glittered in the falling rain. Garrison squinted in the glare and pulled his head down to get the bright light out of his eyes. He took stock of himself. He was sitting in an American jeep, he was dressed in his own uniform, and there was no reason in the world he should have been hearing German. He let his hand brush against the holster for his service revolver as he struggled to sit up on his own. The holster was empty. That guy in front of the jeep was probably holding more than just a damned flashlight.

"What happened?" he asked.

"It looks as if you ran your car off the pavement, Lieutenant." the concerned face informed him.

The guy's English was good, just a slight trace of an accent that might have gone unnoticed if he hadn't heard the German that came first. "Who are you?"

"Karl… Carlton Surrey" the answer came with just a fleeting delay. "This is my friend William Kent."

_Well_, he thought, _They probably aren't spies. Flyers, maybe_… Maybe there was a raid after all. "What are you doing out here?"

"We…" another brief delay from Surrey, whose voice sounded suspiciously like the one identified as belonging to Oberleutnant Lebrecht. "We heard the crash and came out to see what happened."

_No. Definitely not spies. _From his hazy recollection of the road, the houses were few and far between. And even with his muddled sense of time Garrison knew he'd been there much longer than it would take for one of the locals to hear him crash off into the bushes and come investigating. He took a moment and tried to remember what he'd heard them say. _They couldn't use the jeep, one of them, this one… wanted to make use of him some how… There was another car?_

"Can you get out of the vehicle if I help you, Lieutenant?"

"I think so."

"William! Willie, take hold of the Lieutenant while I come around."

The second man silently stepped forward and grabbed a handful of Garrison's overcoat to keep him upright while the first man moved around the back of the jeep. As soon as the guy that was doing all the talking was in close again the silent one let go, scrubbed his hand down the side of his pants and moved back. _'Guess he's Broiler, the one who doesn't think they should haul me along.'_

Lebrecht pulled the American forward a bit more. "Can you get a grip on the wheel and keep yourself steady Lieutenant?" When the young officer nodded he shifted his attention to the injured leg. "You have yourself a nasty gash here, sir." Strong fingers pressed in around the injury looking for signs the leg was broken, if it was the American would be of no use to them and he would have to kill him. He glanced up in sympathy when the young man's breath caught. "I don't believe anything is broken but it certainly is badly bruised…" there was genuine relief in Lebrecht's voice. "Would you like to give it a try?"

Garrison chewed his lower lip a moment then nodded and tried to pull himself out of the jeep. _Might as well see if there's any chance of making a run for it._

"William," the talker called over his shoulder. "Go up to the house and bring the car back. Even if he manages to stand our friend here isn't fit to walk on this leg."

There was a bright flash overhead and another roll of thunder. Within seconds heavy rain was sheeting down around them. The man that was passing himself off as 'Carlton' slipped under his arm as Craig levered himself out of the jeep. His head swam as he stood there clinging to the stranger. As soon as the ground stopped rolling Garrison tried his weight on his left leg. It held him up, but it wasn't happy about doing it.

"Let's see about getting you up to the road." Lebrecht encouraged.

_If the guy was a native English speaker_, Craig thought, _he'd tag a 'shall we' on the end of that line._ He could take his weight on the leg but when he tried to move off, to bend it, it rebelled and without 'Carlton' there to brace him he would have measured his length in the mud. _'Guess over powering this guy and bolting for the trees is probably out.'_

It took them several minutes to navigate the slippery slope and work their way through the bushes that lined the road but they finally made it to the top, just in time for the strong silent type to be there with the car. Garrison knew it was stolen, he hadn't heard a pistol shot, but the thunder could have covered that. He could only hope that the noise from the storm and the darkness gave the thief enough cover to boost the car without being spotted and that the people who'd lost it were still alive and well and would be able to report their loss in the morning.

'Willie' leaned over and opened the door. 'Carlton' swung him around to sit on the front seat and then he turned back for the first aid kit in the jeep.

"William, hand the Lieutenant that torch." Lebrecht studied the American's face as he opened the kit and laid it on his lap. He appeared to be dazed, his skin pale. In his present state he was sure the young man wouldn't give them any trouble. "Lieutenant, can you hold the light on this for me please?" Pulling the ragged cloth back he revealed a deep gash over the American's knee. Not only would he not cause them any trouble, from the looks of the wound, though he should be able to move, he wouldn't be able to get away from them either. Judging from the bruise that ran along the side of his face he was probably confused enough that he wouldn't even realize that they were using him until it was too late.

Garrison watched while the his talkative rescuer applied a bandage over the gouge. He heard a soft metallic click behind him and knew if he'd been able to manage it and turn around he'd probably find the silent one holding his missing service pistol on him.


	3. Chapter 3

g

"What's a general want with the Warden anyway?" Casino didn't like officers and the bigger they were they less he liked them. All they meant was trouble, especially for guys like them.

"I expect he isn't very happy about losing one of his men," Actor offered his opinion as he waited for the group's safecracker to fill his glass and shove the bottle along. "It is most likely he is simply interested in getting more information on the facts surrounding the captain's death."

They were all sitting around the table in the dormitory sharing a round of brandy from the bottle they kept on the shelf. Rawlins was with them, still fussing over the Lieutenant's absence.

"But he'd a got all the particulars out a the report the Warden made to Reynolds." Chief had been watching Rawlins since he showed up at the pub. He shoved the bottle across the table and waited for the NCO to fill his glass. "There's more to it than just needin' a little extra information, isn't there Sergeant?" The young man had to wait for his answer, Rawlins was lost in thought.

_Gil watched his commander from the doorway a moment before he entered the office. The CO had turned away from his desk and sat with his forehead resting on the fingers of his right hand, his injured left hand lay in his lap. "Is something amiss, sir?"_

_Garrison straightened a bit but didn't look up, just continued to rub at his forehead._

_Rawlins took a few more steps towards the desk. "Sir, are you all right?"_

"_Yeah, I'm fine." The Lieutenant turned back to his desk and studied the blank sheet of paper on it. "I've just been trying to come up with something to say to Ward's family. Some way to tell them what happened."_

"_But, sir, 'is own commanding officer will take care of that…" _

_Garrison gave him a sharp look and cut him off. "I'm the one that left him out there!" He turned back to consider the pristine page again. After a moment of strained silence he said quietly. "I should do it."_

_There was little he could say to the young man to ease the guilt and responsibility he was feeling and Rawlins could only watch as the Lieutenant pushed away from the desk and started to pace the room._

"_If it had been a normal mission,… If I hadn't decided to split the group up, there might have been enough of us to try and bring the body back." The American officer turned a disheartened gaze on his NCO. "It's something you promise each other,.. That you'll at least try."_

"_Sir, there were only just the three of you, and you were being hunted. The captain would have understood that, sir. He wouldn't have wanted you to risk…"_

"_I know that!" Garrison rubbed at his forehead again. "But, God, Gil, how do I tell his wife?" There was another long moment of silence. "How do I tell her that there wasn't even enough time to take a decent reading.. That I don't even really know where I left the body?"_

"_The Jerries will report it, sir. It's regulation." But they both knew it was a regulation that was often forgotten. "At least she'll know what happened to 'im. She won't be left wondering." Like so many others, he thought._

_Garrison settled into the chair at his desk again, picked up the pen and started to write._

"_What will you tell her?"_

"_That he died doing the job he was sent out to do. That he gave us the information we needed so we could destroy that gun." He hadn't had a chance to give those coordinates, Ward died before he could do that and they'd found the gun on their own, but no one would question what he put in this letter, "and he helped save the lives of hundreds of men." No one would question the recommendation he'd already made... He glanced up for a moment, "That I think he should get a medal for it." and then he set back to work. "Maybe it'll be enough." _

Gil rolled the glass he held between his hands. "You're right. General Weston's got all the information he needs from those reports…. But it seems Captain Ward was 'is son-in-law." He glanced up at the men before taking a sip of his drink. "I'm afraid he might just be lookin' for someone to blame for the lad's death."

g

"How does that feel?"

"Better. Thanks." The knee felt better with support. Too bad there wasn't enough in that kit to take care of the pounding in his head and the complaints he was beginning to get from the muscles in his neck and back. A few loops of strapping around his ribs wouldn't feel too bad either. Garrison looked at the man crouched down in front of him and waited to see what the next move in this game would be.

"Now Lieutenant," 'Carlton' smiled up at him. "If you will tell me your name and where you were headed my friend and I will try and get you home."

It was an odd situation. He knew he was a captive of sorts, but could he really consider himself a prisoner of war? Craig shrugged, giving them his name wouldn't cause any problem and they already knew his rank, it was on his collar. "Garrison. Lieutenant Craig Garrison." He stopped short of giving his serial number. These guys didn't need it. He was pretty sure they weren't going to stop anywhere and report that he'd been taken prisoner, besides they were still pretending to be English. He couldn't find any reason to tell them where he belonged or where he was going when he'd run off the road. "I'm afraid I can't remember the rest."

"The name of your base, Lieutenant?" 'Carlton' asked, his voice lightly tinged with suspicion. "Surely you haven't forgotten that?"

"It's not a base." Garrison carefully shook his head and tried to sound confused. It wasn't hard. "I'm billeted in a country house somewhere on the outskirts of the city. I haven't been there long."

Lebrecht had seen the thick bandage on the young man's hand when they first found him in the car. It was that dressing that gave him his idea, even though he'd had to argue with Broiler over it. He had no idea where they would be sent by their contact but he hoped they might be able use the injured American. They could travel much faster if they could pretend to be escorting an injured friend back to his base instead of sulking through the underbrush, or traveling only at night. "Are you on medical leave, Lieutenant?"

Craig cradled his left hand in his lap, playing along, and nodded. "I'm afraid I got cabin fever. I just wanted to see something different, and get a little time alone, so I checked out a jeep and took off."

He'd heard reports. The elite here in England sometimes opened their homes to injured servicemen, just like at home. "How did you expect to find your way back there when you came off on this little excursion of yours?" Lebrecht asked with a sympathetic smile.

Garrison pasted a self depreciating grin on his face. "It wasn't dark when I took off. I think I could get back by using landmarks, but I'll need daylight for that." Lightening flashed overhead and lit up the ruined jeep where it rested in the ditch. Craig gave a deep sigh and put the finishing touches on lulling the man back into believing he was harmless. "I don't guess I'll be going anywhere in that thing."

Lebrecht's mouth lifted in a quick smile as he realized his plan could work. He tired to reassure the injured American. "It does not matter. There is a place where you can rest for awhile and then William and I will bring you closer to the city. When the sun comes up you will be able to find your way and we will see to it you get back where you belong." He replaced the items in the first aid kit, snapped it closed and tossed it on the back seat. Bracing the American's good leg he helped him slide further back into the car, then lifted the injured leg as the young man turned to settle on the seat.

Garrison shot a look along his shoulder as soon as he was facing forward in the car. 'Willie's' left hand was on the wheel but his right was inside his coat. He had no doubt there was a gun pointed right at him. He leaned his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. At least they'd swiped a sedan and he was finally out of the rain, and the heater was running full blast... The hinge on the back door squealed as 'Carlton' opened it and the car rocked slightly as he climbed in. If there had been someone around to take the bet, he thought he'd only get even odds on there being a pistol pointed at his back now too, he could almost feel it through the thin padding and upholstery.

g

"That fella dying wasn't none a the Warden's fault!" Goniff protested. "He was shot up before we ever got our hands on 'im."

"Goniff, if the General is a relative he may not be willing or able to see that." Actor countered.

Rawlins took another sip of the brandy before he continued. "The way the Lieutenant told it to me, he 'ad to push the captain pretty hard to get away from the station. He could've just got the coordinates for the gun from 'im and left 'im for the Jerries to take care of…" The Yank had worried over it to him when they'd talked it over, questioning that decision, he wouldn't have kept it out of the report on how he'd handle the assignment. "He was blaming 'imself for making that decision. And it wouldn't take much for a man's grief and anger over losin' 'is son-in-law to turn to accusing once he got wind of something like that."

"Jeeze! That's nuts!" But as soon as the thought took hold Casino realized that it wasn't. The Warden had been able to get to the guy, and if he'd just taken the information on where that gun was, he could have left him behind. Maybe that captain would have been a prisoner, but he might still be alive. He thought about what he'd want if it was a relative a his… Alive, he decided. Alive was better no matter how you cut it.

"He was shot up too bad, man. Even if we'd a left him he probably wouldn't a made it to the next station." Chief had been there, he'd seen the look on the American captain's face as he tried to give the information on that gun to the Warden, heard the death rattle in his throat. He took another sip of his drink and looked at the rest of them over the rim of his glass. "That guy was already as good as dead when we took him off the train."

g

"Wie sollen wir diesen Mann dem Kontakt erklären?" Broiler kept his voice low, just above a whisper, but contempt bubbled just under the surface.

"Einfach.…" Lebrecht shrugged, his answer coming in the same low tone. "Er ist unser Gefangener."

"Gefangene sind eine dumme Idee, Karl." Wilhelm snorted in disgust. This went against the training they'd received before making their first flight over England. They'd been told to avoid contact with the locals at all cost, to go straight to their contact… "Ist es schwierig genug ohne dieses unbrauchbare Gepäck entlang zu schleppen!" and he had no trouble reminding his superior of it. "Dummkopf!Er wird uns verlangsamen!"

"Wilhelm, rufen mich nicht einen Dummkopf wieder an. Ich erlaube ihn nicht." Lebrecht tried to keep his voice low, calm, but there was no doubt about the emotions that lay behind the words. He was tired of being questioned and was in no mood to have his command of the situation in doubt.

'_Contact?' _Garrison's mind turned that over. He'd been riding along with his head lolling on the seat back and his eyes closed. He'd gone limp and kept his breathing deep and regular. Ignoring Lebrechts' questions, and a prod from Broiler, he managed to convince them that he was asleep in order to get some information on where they were headed. He wasn't arrogant enough to believe the Allies were the only ones capable of infiltrating their enemy…or that there were no sympathizers here in England helping downed fliers get back to Germany. But there was a good chance these two would have to use the same web of contacts those infiltrators used to get their information out of the country to get out themselves. If he could identify even one person in that web it might help bring the whole thing down. Sticking with these guys might not be such a bad idea but he'd have to watch out for 'Willie'. He didn't seem to like 'Carlton's' plan much. Craig groaned and stretched to give them some warning so they could switch back to English.

"How do you feel, Lieutenant Garrison?" His concern was genuine. The young man seemed pleasant enough, he was injured, a casualty even before his trouble on the road. Lebrecht shook his head in the darkness.., and so trusting…the American hadn't even noticed that his weapon was missing yet.

"I could use a couple aspirin." No sense in lying about that. Garrison gave a one handed shove to get himself upright in the seat and peered out the front window. "Where are we? I'm all turned around." He'd tried to concentrate on the direction they'd taken but he'd had his eyes closed and he was still dizzy. It seemed like 'Willie' had headed back towards London in the direction of the estate but he couldn't be certain. His sense of time had escaped him too and the storm kept their speed down almost to a crawl. He had no idea how long they'd been on the road or how far they'd come. What he could see in the dim headlights seemed familiar, but it wasn't his usual route and without a longer view he couldn't be sure. All it was, really, was a line of trees along a road. They could be anywhere.

"We are only a short distance from the home of a very good friend. When you have rested there we will continue on towards London." _Good_, he thought, _he is still confused. With the darkness and the storm he will not know where he is. There should be no risk to the contact._ Lebrecht checked his watch. They'd need to move through the city while it was still dark. They needed to take advantage of the storm while it cleared the roads of their normal burden of military traffic. But they had to make this stop, they only had this location as a contact and would need to be sent on to the next safe house by the man they would meet.


	4. Chapter 4

**g**

"What cha starin' at Chiefy?" Goniff rolled off his bed and went to stand behind their scout as he kept his vigil out the window.

"Nothin'." Chief turned his back on the glass and sat on the side of his cot, leaving the pick pocket gazing out into the darkness. "Car went by 'while ago." Even in the storm he could make out the dim light of the vehicle's blinkered head lamps as they lit up the trees out on the road that ran along the north side of the place.

"Blimey! Who'd be barmy enough to be out in this kind a weather?" He pulled the heavy curtain back across the window. Even if the lights had been blazing inside there was no need to follow black out rules, not on a night like this. Goniff just didn't like the feelin' that one of those tree branches could give way any minute and come flyin' through the glass at them.

"Jeeze! Will you two give it up and get some sleep?" Casino groused from his corner of the room.

"That what you were doin', Pappy? Sleepin'?"

"Sure. What else?" Casino snorted a laugh. He didn't even convince himself. "What time is it anyway?"

Actor snapped on the lamp that sat next to his bed and checked his watch. "It's only eleven forty." Lying there in the dark, pretending to sleep, it seemed like it should be much later.

"Wonder if the phones're fixed yet."

"I doubt it." Actor rolled onto his feet, slipped his arms into his dressing gown, tied it around him and settled into his chair. They probably wouldn't be getting much rest tonight he decided he might as well read.

Goniff wandered across the room and plopped down on the con man's bed. "Them blokes 'r taken their own sweet time about doin' that little repair job!"

"Goniff, they wouldn't risk a crew on a night like this. They'll wait for morning when they have some light. Even then they may not be able to make repairs until the storm blows itself out." The con man frowned as he watched the little cockney make himself more comfortable on his bed. "Besides we won't be hearing from the Warden until morning."

"What makes you so sure a that, then?" Goniff asked as he snuggled down into the warmth of the mattress.

"Because the Lieutenant has better manners than to ring someone in the middle of the night unless there is some type of an emergency!"

The second story man thought that over a bit and decide the Italian member of the team was probably right. No sense in sittin' up by the phone all night just to call in to say you was stuck somewhere and couldn't get back. Especially when nobody'd figure you'd be on the road anyways on account a the downpour they were sittin' through right now. He shot a look around the room. Casino was stretched out on his bunk propped up on his elbow. Chief was back at the window and had pulled the drapery back a bit so he could see out, only he couldn't see much for his own reflection in the darkened glass.

Goniff curled into a more comfortable ball and pulled one of the con man's blankets up over his legs. He watched Actor trying to pretend he was interested in his book. "What 'r you readin' there, mate? Anything we'd be interested in?"

g

The car turned down a narrow drive and pulled to a stop in front of a house that had a well cared for, prosperous look to it. Garrison pushed up in the seat, preparing to get out of the car, only to feel a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll wait here where it is dry, Lieutenant. William will go up and see if anyone is home."

With that their driver opened the door and scurried through the rain to the entrance of the cottage. After a few moments it opened and they could make out two figures in the dim light that shone from inside. Another short wait and William turned back towards the car and was beckoning to them to come into the house. Their host stood just behind him lifting a lantern in a vain attempt to light their way.

"There's our welcome, my friend." Lebrecht told him from the back seat. "Shall we go in out of the rain?"

By the time he'd limped to the door both Garrison and 'Carlton' were soaked. They waited on the stone doorstep and stripped out of their coats, shaking as much water off as they could manage before being chided inside by the owner.

"Forget that, now, and come inside by the fire. Ya must be half froze." The man struck a match and lit another oil lamp, handing it over to 'Willie' to help light their way inside. "The storm's taken the phones and the power, but that's no problem here. We've only just got the electrics a dozen years or so ago, so we haven't lost the touch of doin' without." He pulled another chair up close to the coal fire glowing on the hearth. "'tis a shame they tore out the gas lines when they brought the wires in… Gas 's much more reliable in weather like this." Seeing his guests settled in close to the warmth of the fire the man turned to making them even more comfortable and went to the bottle he had on the sideboard. Returning with a tray he handed around the whiskey and took a seat on the fender stool next to the fire. "Get a little a that down ya, then. It'll do wonders."

"Mr. Byrd." Carlton raised his glass. "Your good health, sir. I am very glad you were home tonight."

"Carlton, lad, it's always good t' see one a yer family." Mr. Byrd smiled in Lebrecht's direction before turning an appraising eye on the American. "But yer friend here looks a little worse for the wearin'. What's happened?"

"We found Lieutenant Garrison, here, off the side of the road several miles up," Lebrecht explained. "And it seemed a shame to leave him out there all on his own in this weather, so I decided to take him along with us."

Their host spent a moment contemplating his friend 'Carlton' before turning on the American officer to introduce himself. "Patrick Albert Byrd, sir. At yer service." The man raised his glass in his direction and took a healthy sip, studying Garrison over the rim.

Byrd was an older man. In his sixties, Garrison thought. He was stocky, his chin sat well down on his chest. His belly and ruddy complexion stood witness to a little too much interest in the whiskey bottle. Age had brought a shift from what had probably been a thick thatch of hair on his head to an unruly pair of eyebrows that sat over eyes that almost snapped with quick wit and intelligence.

Craig watched him over his drink. He seemed more than just pleased to welcome friends into his home in the middle of a stormy night. …And he had the sinking feeling he'd seen him somewhere before…

"Garrison? That name's one I think I may I know." Byrd leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, warming the whiskey in both hands as he rolled the glass between them. "Yer the Yank that heads up the group that took Killynghall manor, are you not? I've heard many a rumor about that place, now, and the people in it. It'll be nice to get the straight a the matter at last."

Craig took a deep breath and shifted his gaze from his inquisitive host to his rescuers. 'Carlton' seemed a little disappointed in him. 'William' just stared, his pistol, set free from its hiding place, was centered on a spot right between Garrison's eyes. He knew it wouldn't do him any good to deny Mr. Byrd's statement. Even if he could convince them it was some other Garrison, Willie there had just tipped their hand. It was a German piece, he noticed, 'Carlton' must have his,...

No sense in dragging this out, Garrison ignored Byrd's question in favor of one of his own, and he directed it to 'Carlton'. "Now, you want to tell me who you two really are and what you're doing here?"

Lebrecht glanced up and shook his head. "I don't understand how you knew. My English is perfect."

"Yeah." Craig nodded his agreement. "But you weren't speaking English when I woke up, or in the car on the way here. And I guess you didn't take the time to work out a cover story before you had to come up with those names you and your friend are using."

"The names?" Lebrecht looked from Garrison to Byrd, his confusion obvious on his face.

Garrison just nodded. It was a simple mistake.

"But Kent and Surrey are English names, are they not?" the German officer asked.

Byrd snorted a disbelieving laugh into his whiskey.

"Sure. For counties. One person, maybe," Craig looked at the man and shook his head, "but two? Odds are against it." He felt the continued push of William's aim on his forehead.

"Wilhelm! Put that down." Lebrecht ordered. "Lieutenant Garrison isn't going anywhere, and he is in no condition to cause us any trouble."

Garrison had to wait it out but after a long moment the subtle feeling of pressure between his eyes finally disappeared. _'Willie' has a real problem following orders_, he thought. _Better watch it._

Lebrecht shifted in his chair, leaning to one side as he dug under the stolen coat, and retrieved the pistol he'd taken from his prisoner. Sliding forward so that he sat with his arms resting on his knees he let Garrison see the gun. "I am Oberleutnant Karl Lebrecht." Gesturing towards 'Willie' he continued, "Leutnant Wilhelm Broiler. Lieutenant Garrison, my friend and I need to get back to Germany and this is how you will help us to do it."

g

Actor settled into his favorite chair in the library. The fire had been banked down but responded nicely to a bit of prodding and a little extra coal. He lifted the brandy snifter and swirled the contents, warming it with the subtle heat coming off his palm. Opening the book on his lap he flipped through the pages to regain his spot and found he was laughing at himself. It was hard for him to believe, but he had just spent the last hour reading aloud as his teammates dropped off to sleep up stairs. He shifted into a more comfortable position and started to read again, trying to pick up his interest in the novel, but he found his mind drifted to the storm that still raged outside the window, and to the puzzle of what had become of the Warden. Each time he'd repeated his argument that the Lieutenant was probably safely asleep in some quarters provided for him in town, or that he'd found somewhere along the road back to the estate to wait out the storm, it seemed he had an easier job convincing the others and a harder job convincing himself. Garrison wouldn't stay away from the estate without making arrangements, he was certain of that. Actor laughed silently again even through his worry, the Warden still didn't trust them enough to leave them to their own devices for very long.

The European criminal started from his chair when the door to the library swung open. Rawlins stood there a moment before continuing on into the room. He didn't even bother with a reprimand.

"When I saw the light I thought it might be the Lieutenant."

The con man studied the Sergeant Major. His hair was wet, still dripping rain down the back of his neck where it soaked into his collar. He watched as Rawlins poured a drink for himself from the decanter that sat on the low table in front of the fire then moved over to stand on the hearth. Actor fought the desire to start asking questions and waited instead for him to volunteer his information.

"They don't have 'im put up in any of the usual places up in London. The logs show he left the headquarters building at fifteen hundred…" Gil gave up staring into the fire and after a bit of pacing, perched instead on the arm of the sofa. "And I stopped at the inns and public houses that were still open along the road he usually takes. No one's seen 'im. Not anywhere."

Actor thought back. The rain hadn't really started until a little after three… But the sky had telegraphed it's intent. "Surely he realized he wouldn't be able to reach us before the storm hit and he's found his own accommodations in the city."

"Then he would've reported in to let someone know. The phones didn't go down for another two hours. And it's only the lines that run out this way. The phones in the city are working." Rawlins brought his hand up to forestall the group's confidence expert's next argument. They both knew he was just trying to reassure himself. "That meeting's first thing in the morning. I'm not even certain he knows about it. But if Colonel Reynolds knew, and told 'im, the Lieutenant wouldn't risk bein' late for it, he'd more likely drive through the bloody down pour than that if he couldn't get word out here."

"What are you going to do?"

"If we haven't had any word of 'im by first light I'll take a patrol out and search along the road again." The storm was a bad one, and the Lieutenant had refused his offer of a driver. He said his hand wasn't injured that badly, that he could still get a good grip on the steering wheel… He should have over ridden him, Gil thought, sent him out with a driver anyway.

Actor didn't have any difficulty speaking for the group. "We'll go with you."

"You'll not! I'll have enough to worry about out there without wondering what you lot'll get up to." But he softened the rejection. "I'll need someone to stay by the phone…, and to be here to smooth-talk that general. I expect that'd be right up your alley."

"It won't take all of us to wait by the phone or keep that man occupied." Actor took a sip of brandy and watched Rawlins over the rim of his glass. "If you don't take them with you they will go out on their own."

Gil sighed and set his glass aside. "Just like you mob. You wouldn't follow an order if it'd save your own mother!" He thought it over and decided he wouldn't mind having the Indian lad with him. The Lieutenant sat a great store by the boy's ability to follow up a trail out in the field. And he thought he might just be better off knowing exactly what that hot headed Casino was up to… "You and Goniff'll stay here then and I'll take the other two with me. If you're not willing to agree to that it'll be just as easy to bundle you all into the stockade until we get this sorted!"


	5. Chapter 5

g

They'd shifted him into a back room and left him to do whatever he thought best. Craig checked the door right away. It was an old house and the security for this room was very simple, and very effective. The door to the room opened out and a wooden bar dropped across it from the outside, so there wasn't even a lock to pick. He had a window, of sorts, three squares of thick glass set into the stone about the level of the top of his head. The glass blocks alternated with stone and each one was only about the size of his outstretched hand. No squeezing through there. There didn't appear to be any wires or pipes running through the room, and if he'd wanted to set anything on fire to draw attention to his predicament they hadn't left him with anything that would strike a spark. _Fire probably isn't a very good idea_, he thought. _Willie'd just let me roast in here rather than open the door to let me out._

Garrison did his best to check his knee in the dark. The bandage felt a little stiff in front, _dried blood probably_. And compared to the other side the joint was slightly larger, and warm. _Swelling_. He got up, determined to pace and force some flexibility back into it. A few steps proved to him that unless he could perfect a peg legged, tip toe gait he wouldn't be getting very far away under his own steam. Hobbling back into the corner where there was an old cot he carefully lowered himself down. After probing the bruise on the side of his face and stretching muscles that really didn't want to be stretched for as long as he could endure it he finally lay back and tried to get some rest.

He took in a deep breath and let it out. This really wasn't what he'd had in mind when he took off down that country road instead of going straight back to the estate. Just a little time away from endless the meetings and the reports that had a way of coming up even though he was officially on medical leave. Just a little time away from four squabbling cons who thought his office was Grand Central Station… Then the meeting he had with Reynolds wrapped up sooner than he expected, and the weather had suckered him, like turbulent weather always could. Dark clouds roiling over head, the wind sharp and tangy as it caused the trees alongside the road to dance… All he wanted was a little time alone... Craig strained to see through the dim light of the room… _Well, I've got it, at least for a little while_.

g

Gil folded the map away and sat back, rubbing at his eyes. He'd send two trucks of guards out, he decided, one back along the road the Lieutenant usually used to get to London, the other off along the road that ran out into the countryside from the village. He hadn't seen anything amiss on the main road when he made his run to London and back, but it was dark and it was all he could do to see through the rain that smeared across the windscreen. From their higher position on the back of the trucks and with the aid of the morning light, even if the storm persisted, he was hopeful they would be able to see the jeep if it had gone off the road as he feared.

Rawlins picked up the phone that sat on the Lieutenant's desk and swore softly to himself when all he heard was silence. That settled it, he'd go with the truck that would search the country track. When they went into town to pick the road up he'd stop and report his missing CO to the local constable. If someone found the American close to the village they would report it to the local man first… He'd leave two of his men in town with the constable. He'd leave radios too, even though the trucks would probably be too far away for them to be of much use. If the phones were put right in the morning the men in town could coordinate things from there as the trucks made contact, if not one of them could act as a runner if any word of the Lieutenant came in.

g

Craig was surprised to find that he'd actually drifted off to sleep for awhile. The sound of people arguing somewhere close brought him back to reality and he tried to hear what the trouble was through the thick door, and even thicker walls, by hobbling over and pressing his ear to the crack where the door met the wall…

"I tell you it is foolish to take him along with us. He will slow us down! He will find out how we get out…."

_Sounds like Willie_, he thought. _He hasn't wanted me along from the start._

"And I still tell you he _will_ go with us. Those are my orders Leutnant Broiler and you will follow them."

"_Ober_leutnant Lebrecht you are endangering our chances of getting back to Germany and I will be making a formal complaint to our superiors when we return!"

Craig felt a quick unreasonable wave of sympathy for Lebrecht as he remembered of all Casino's battles against how he decided they'd handle things when they were out on a mission. The conversation was taking place in English, he realized, _Byrd must not be a plant, he must be a sympathizer_. He heard the clatter of silver on china and his stomach rumbled.

"Boys! Boys! Let me take this decision out of yer hands if it'll make it easier for ya. You'll take the Yank along because, as I said a'fore, he heads up an installation that I've been hearing rumors about. Very intriguin' rumors they are too."

"What do you mean, Mr. Byrd? What do you know of this base of his?"

"Not much other than what the folks in town say about it. Seems there's a lot of extra security out there…. They're s'posed to have some odd characters working 'round it too… Criminals and the like. And they're always comin' and goin' at odd hours."

"But I don't understand. What could that mean?"

Garrison shook his head, amazed. _No. Definitely not spies_.

"Use what little brains the Lord give ya, lad… They could be runnin' a special commando base out there. You two could a tripped over their leader!"

Craig strained to hear more but the conversation faded away as the three moved to some other part of the house. _Swell! _he thought. _Well at least Willie might not be so keen on executing me now._ Garrison hobbled back to the cot. His knee hurt with every step, his face hurt, his hand throbbed, the muscles in his back and neck were twisting into a first class Charlie horse and… he sneezed and hugged sore ribs… he was probably coming down with a cold. _Damn It! _

As he sat there feeling a little sorry for himself he remembered where he'd seen Byrd… The man had been in the pub once when he'd gone to collect his men, and he ran a small shop in town, a place where he bought and sold used items. _Perfect set up to collect information on what was going on in the immediate area as he chatted with his customers. Strangers coming in under the guise of selling something to make a little extra cash wouldn't be noticed either..._, he thought. Byrd was in a valuable position his German handlers probably wouldn't be willing to see compromised. If Mr. Byrd couldn't manage to convince 'Willie' he was important enough to take back to Germany Craig knew was probably going to die soon, either here in this basement room or somewhere along the road.

g

Actor looked up from his book when the door opened silently and let the group's scout into the room. Chief didn't say anything, just walked over and pulled the drapery away from the window and stared out into the darkness.

"You should be up stairs asleep."

The young man shifted his gaze away from the window long enough to fix the con man with a quick smile. "So should you." Then he went back to his vigil and Actor went back to his book. After several minutes Chief broke the silence that had fallen in the room. "I got lost in a rain storm once. It was after my grandfather died. After we found out about my father…"

Actor laid the book aside. It wasn't often Chief was willing to talk about his past. "What happened?"

"Nothin' much." He continued to stare at the window, he couldn't see out past the reflections but he could imagine. "Thunder and lightening never seemed like anything you needed to be afraid of out at my grandfather's place. You could see the storms comin' for a long ways off. You could even smell 'em, so you could get ready. In the city it's different." Chief let the fabric drop back across the window and walked over to stand looking down at the fire. "Those storms get right up on top of you before you even know it. And the thunder… It echoes off all the buildings so you can't tell where it's comin' from. I didn't know where to go when it hit so I went into a culvert to wait it out. The water came down through there so fast it washed me out before I could get away. Didn't think I'd ever get out of it."

The con man waited silently for the story to continue. They'd found over time that they couldn't press the young man. If he had something to say he'd say it in his own time.

"I must a been better'n a half a mile away from town before the water spread out enough for me to crawl out of it." He glanced up and gave their second another quick half smile. "Guess that's when I learned to swim." Moving back across the room he pulled the curtain back once more. "The storms at home, they're not like this. They come up fast and they drop a lot a rain, but they go away quick. They don't last. Not like this." He continued to strain to see through the reflections on the glass but all he could see was the Warden, in a ditch somewhere, fighting to get out of water that wouldn't stop coming.

g

Garrison was stretched out on the cot when the door opened an hour later. He heard the men as they gathered outside the room. He could hear them discuss how they were going to get set so that he couldn't get past them, so it was no surprise to see both Lebrecht and Broiler there, guns drawn standing well back from the opening as Byrd pulled the heavy door open. He didn't even bother sitting up, waiting instead to see what they had in mind… to see if he was going to be allowed to live through another day.

"So Lieutenant I hope ya found th' accommodations to yer likin'?" Byrd smiled congenially, like any concerned inn keeper.

"The room's quiet enough Mr. Byrd but the mattress is kind of lumpy." He responded to his host as he raised himself up on his elbow.

"Well lad, you'll not be sorry t' hear ya won't be stayin' then, will ya? Maybe they'll have better to offer at the next place." Byrd entered the small room as his American guest rolled up to sit on the side of the cot. He sat the oil lamp he carried down on an empty crate that sat in the corner and motioned Broiler in with him to provide cover as he advanced on the injured man. "We'd best be getting' ya on yer feet so ya can work some of th' stiffness out before ya have to be leavin' me."

Garrison considered the hand Byrd held out to him for a moment before he took it. He could probably take the older man once he got on his feet, using him as a shield to get out, but he had his doubts about the reaction that would get from the two Germans. Lebrecht would probably give way, but he thought Broiler might just shoot both of them and be done with it… Besides it looked as if Byrd and Lebrecht had won their argument and he was going to be allow to live, and the idea of discovering just how these two were going to get out of the county, who was helping them and where they were, had entrenched itself firmly in his mind and the only way to do that was to go with them… at least as far as the coast.

Byrd pulled Garrison to his feet and wrapped an arm around him and started him limping towards to door. "Alright, lads, we'll need to be cleaning him up a bit so he can be of th' best use to ya."

g

"Hey what'r you two blokes doin' down here?" Goniff shuffled through the door and headed for the warmth of the sofa that sat in front of the fireplace.

"Couldn't sleep." Chief answered as he continued to watch the storm on the other side of the window.

Actor gave up and laid his book aside. "Is Casino still asleep upstairs or did he come down with you?"

"He went down to the kitchen t' make some coffee. Figured it'd make it easier if we was gonna sit up all night worryin'." The wiry little cockney pulled his legs up and tucked his feet under him. "What d'you think they'll do with us if the Lieutenant,… Well, uh,…you know, if he don't make it back here?"

They'd had these discussions before, usually out on a mission if something had gone wrong and they were separated. It was surprising how quickly they'd gone from plotting how they'd escape to discussing what would become of them if their contract with the government couldn't be fulfilled. "I don't think we should get ahead of ourselves. I'm sure Lieutenant Garrison has merely taken shelter some where along the route back from London and he has been unable to let anyone know where he is because of the difficulty with the phone lines. As soon as this storm clears…"

"Jeeze! You'r not still tryin' to sell that one, are you?" Casino shoved the door open with his elbow as he came through with a tray loaded with cups and coffee. "You don't even believe yourself so stop tryin' to con us."

"Casino, I…" But it was true, he didn't believe that explanation any longer. If he still had any faith in it Sergeant Major Rawlins' report on his trip into London and back had destroyed it.

Casino sat the tray down on the low table in front of the sofa with a clatter, took a cup and spilled some coffee into it for himself then slouched into a chair. He was the one who originally floated the idea that the Warden would hole up in the city somewhere until the storm blew itself out, that was before they'd gotten the low down from Rawlins. "You know the Warden, babe. He wouldn't let gettin' wet stop him from bein' here for that meeting tomorrow."

"Possibly he doesn't know about the meeting." the con man suggested.

"Yeah! You think a general's gonna come all the way out here on the off chance he'll be here?" The safecracker shook his head. "He wouldn't want a waste his valuable time," he assured them with disgust. "Nah! He probably tracked the Warden down when he was in talkin' to Reynolds. He knows, babe. You can make bet on it."

There was a flash at the window and the thunder rumbled overhead. The storm seemed more ominous some how, a little more threatening.


	6. Chapter 6

g

Twenty minutes later there was a new dressing on Craig's left hand. The bandage that Lebrecht initially applied to his knee had been removed in favor of one that went under the trouser leg, the pants had been rinsed and quickly cobbled together by a bit of hasty stitch work, and the three of them were all in the car again and headed back towards the road.

"This is never going to work you know." Garrison told them.

"Then, my friend I am afraid you will not survive the trip." Lebrecht was driving now. If they were stopped his English was nearly faultless and should get them through. The American would help them if they needed a reason to be on the road, once he convinced him.

Garrison relaxed back against the seat and tried to ignore the fact that Broiler was pressing the muzzle of his pistol into the back of the seat hard enough that it was leaving a impression in his spine through the upholstery. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, … He had to play this just right. "Oberleutnant Lebrecht I decided coming into this mess that it would be easier to go through it if I just believed I was already dead. Your threats don't scare me much."

"All right, I will put it to you another way Lieutenant." the German officer brought the car to halt at the end of the drive and turned to face his prisoner. "My friend and I will make it back to Germany. You will be going along. If you do not help me I will be forced to kill anyone who stops this car between here and the coast. It will not matter to me who they are, if they are in my way they will be dead. Do I make myself clear?"

"Der Gefangene verursacht Schwierigkeiten bereits. Wir sollten ihn getötet haben, wo wir ihn fanden.." Broiler complained from the rear seat.

"Wilhelm, denken Sie an Tötung zu viel!"

"Mindestens habe ich den Mut dafür!" Broiler hissed back.

"Genug!"

Even if he hadn't been able to understand exactly what Broiler was saying, no one could miss the scorn in the man's voice. "Does that mean your friend doesn't think much of your plans?" he asked.

Lebrecht shot an irritated look over his shoulder at his confederate as he put the car in gear. "It is of no concern to you. Leutnant Broiler will follow my orders or he will face the consequences when we return to Germany. Once we get back he will see just how our superiors will welcome you, and just how much good it will do our careers."

g

"So what d'you figure happened to him?"

"I think we all agree that he is stubborn enough to try and make his way back here, even through the storm, so it's fairly obvious what has happened." It was obvious to all of them but no one wanted to put it into words. "He must have had an accident somewhere along the way."

Goniff brightened a little, unwilling to consider anything other than the best scenario. "Well, that's not so bad, then. He's prob'ly got himself tucked up in a garage somewhere while the car's bein' fixed."

Actor shook his head. "If he were capable he would have reported in. The phones were working up until five, and it doesn't take two hours to get back here from the city."

"Hey!" Casino frowned across at the elegant con artist. "How'd you know about the phones?"

"Sergeant Major Rawlins drove into London and back after we finished our drink together." He studied the brandy as he swirled it in its glass. "He checked the road too, on the way back, as well as stopping at the inns that were open along the route, and didn't see any sign of the Warden or his jeep."

"So that only leaves an accident that banged him up bad enough that he couldn't make the call himself." Chief suggested.

"Anyone who found him would still report it. He has to carry his identification papers on him, so they would simply call in to central command, and he could be tracked right back to Colonel Reynolds." The con man worried aloud. "I'm afraid he's still out there somewhere."

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Lebrecht braked to a stop and turned on his prisoner. "Now Lieutenant Garrison I must know about security as we make our way through the city." At home there would be check points, their identification papers would be scrutinized. Passwords would be required to get through certain areas. It was so much a part of his life in Germany that he found it hard to believe their contact, that the same conditions did not exist here. But the old man hadn't given them any papers to carry, telling him instead to 'mind how you go so you don't run afoul of the local wardens.' Surely it was more complicated than simply taking a drive through the city. The contact was a simple shopkeeper he decided, his information might be incorrect. But if his prisoner was who Herr Byrd claimed he was, he would have this kind of information. He raised his pistol to remind the American of his threat. "What are the passwords we must use to get through the city?"

Craig thought about faking a few passwords that might tip a sentry off then discounted the idea. It was more likely a man's puzzled response at hearing a password when there was no need of one would get him killed. Travel wasn't controlled as tightly here as it was over on the continent. Unless they were trying to get onto a military base that was on alert it was unlikely they would be needing a password. And if one was required there, even if he knew it, they still wouldn't get through in this civilian car.

When he didn't answer right away Broiler swung his arm across his throat from the back and pulled him backwards in the seat. He brought the pistol barrel up and pressed it against his skull, right below his ear. "You don't have to worry about passwords." he told Lebrecht, carefully. Broiler sat back, Garrison rubbed at the base of his throat for a moment before he continued. "There's a curfew for civilian travel. Trying to get through the city in this car you'll stand a good chance of getting yourself picked up by the local police."

Lebrecht smiled as he urged the car forward again, glad that his prisoner had decided to be reasonable. "And that is what we have you for, Lieutenant. I am sure between us we can convince the authorities to let us pass."

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They were following the instructions they'd gotten from Byrd but it was difficult to do in the dark. The street signs had been removed and they had to rely on finding landmarks in the storm. After several minutes the German officer pulled over again and retrieved the address from his pocket. Holding the paper out to the American he demanded. "You will direct me to this address, Lieutenant!"

Garrison cocked an eyebrow up and took the paper. After a moments study in the light of the torch he'd memorized the address and handed the paper back when Broiler's pistol grazed the back of his head again. "You need to make your way North from here. I'm afraid I'm not very familiar with this area, but if you bear left we should eventually cross a road I recognize and I can figure it out from there."

Lebrecht smiled as he accepted the paper back from his hostage. "Do you take me for a fool Lieutenant? I believe we shall attempt to find one of your local police officers first. I think I would like him to confirm your choice of direction."

Craig shrugged as he turned away. It was worth taking the chance but, apparently, Lebrecht hadn't forgiven him for that lie about not knowing where his base was.

Broiler's face appeared between them as he leaned forward. "Was ist es?" he asked as he pressed the barrel of the pistol against the back of Garrison's neck. "Was versucht er zu tun?"

"Ich glaube, dass er versuchen würde, uns in eine Falle zu leiten." Lebrecht considered their prisoner for a moment before he started the car forward again. "Aber sorgen Sie sich nicht, weil ich seinen Betrug entdeckt habe."

"Ich erzähle Ihnen wieder, Karl, wir sollten ihn töten und damit beendet werden!" Broiler threatened from the back seat.

"Und ich erzähle Ihnen wieder, ich habe ... entschieden er geht!" Lebrecht insisted as they continued on their way.

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It didn't take long for Lebrecht to find his police officer. They patrolled most of the business streets of the city, leaving the residential areas to the local wardens. To make it easier for a stop the German officer drove slowly, close to the curb, obviously searching for something. The local man pulled his own patrol car up to block their progress, and as he got out to come back and question them, Lebrecht reminded Garrison of his intent. "Just as we discussed, my friend... I suggest you pretend to be asleep, Lieutenant. I wouldn't want you to give me even the slightest reason to kill this man."

Craig slid further down and rested his head back against the seat. Closing his eyes he did his best to appear in an alcoholic stupor. He let everything go limp,…except the hand that clutched the door latch. If it looked like things were taking a turn for the worst he was prepared to bail out his side of the car and draw the German's fire.

"Would you mind telling me why you are out after curfew, sir?" The Bobby leaned down so that he could see the three men sitting in the car.

"I'm very sorry, Constable. I know we are breaking the rules, but.." Lebrecht turned a concerned frown on the American sprawled next to him. "We were trying to get our friend, Lieutenant Garrison, here, on to where he wanted to go and I'm afraid we've gone astray."

"Looks like something's amiss with that one. What's happened to him?" The peace officer studied the Yank. He could smell the faint odor of whiskey and the man appeared to be unconscious.

"Well, you know how some of them get when they go on leave. I am afraid he had far too much to drink and he got into a bit of a brawl." He smiled up at the older man leaning in the window. "He has a lady friend he wanted us to take him to." Lebrecht held out the crumpled paper with the next contact's address on it. "I'm not familiar with this area, constable, would you know where I might find this address?"

Straightening up with a bit of a groan the Bobby took the paper and checked the address as he rubbed at his lower back. "You've just taken a wrong turning. You've come too far East but It won't be much trouble to put you right."

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"Well if the Warden's missin' out there somewhere, we just gonna sit here and do nothin?" There was part inquiry, part accusation in his voice as the team's scout asked his question.

"I say we nick a couple a jeeps from the motor pool and go out and have a little look 'round for ourselfs."

"You do that an' you'll be in the stockade before you can say 'Bob's your uncle'!" The attention of the four men jerked to the door as Rawlins stalked through.

"Blimey! We can't just sit 'ere!"

"That's exactly what you will do! It's what we'll all do until we 'ave better light." The British NCO came to a halt with his back to the fire, all eyes rested on him. "See here, I've been on that main road twice tonight myself… There wasn't anything to find. You'll just be wasting energy if you go along it again in this weather without search lights, and we haven't got those." He turned on Chief and Casino. "I want you two to get some rest because I'll be taking you out with me when I go looking at first light." Turning on the little pick pocket he cut off his protest before it could get started. "You an' Actor'll stay here and keep that Bloody general busy."

"Keep him busy?" Goniff's eyes went wide. "How?"

"'Ow should I know!" Rawlins turned on him. "Do some of your Bloomin' impersonations, or those Bleedin' card tricks a yours for 'im! Now come here, all a you. Let me show you what I've got worked out"

Marching across the room to the desk that sat in the corner Gil spread the map of the local area out across the top and waited for the men to gather around him. "Soon as it's light I'm taking two trucks out to search." He glanced at the group's explosives expert. "You'll go with Jergens and recheck the road to London." And then at the scout. "You'll come with me. We'll check with the constable in town and see if he knows anything, then we'll head out along this country road here." He ran his finger along a winding course that led out into the farmlands and parks that lay beyond the estate. "I'm going to leave a couple of men in town so if there's any word about the Lieutenant brought to the constable we'll know it. We'll all have hand units but we'll probably be too far flung for the radios to be much good so we'll just 'ave to keep checking with the locals along the way, using their phones once they're repaired." Rawllins glanced up and fixed his sights on Garrison's second in command. "Actor, we'll use the men in town as the central hub for our messages, so if any word comes here you'll report to them. If there's any information comes to them they'll be calling out here to let you know, and if, God save us, there's bad news we'll all meet at whatever hospital they've taken him to." Rawlins took a moment and eyed the two he'd decided to leave behind. "That's the only use you two'll make of a vehicle, is that clearly understood?" He turned away from the table when he got their agreement, leaving the map behind, and headed for the door. "Now do as I say and get some rest, all of you. I want you downstairs ready to load on those trucks by oh-five-thirty, sharp!"

Casino waited, staring after him as the NCO disappeared down the hall until they heard the door to the Lieutenant's office slam shut. "Jeeze! Now that's just plain weird! That was almost like doin' a briefing with the Warden."

Goniff ignored the observation, studying the map instead. "There's more 'n one road leads out to the country from the village. How come he's so set on this one, then?"

Actor pulled the map around so he could get a closer look. He ran his finger along the route the Sergeant Major had indicated. The road to the estate split off at a sharp turn where the pub sat in town, the other broke off to the east in the same manner, but a little further along. "This road runs straight away from the village before it turns off, just like the one that comes out here. It would be easy enough to make a mistake in the storm."

"The Warden wouldn't make that kinda mistake, man." Chief judged as he considered the map. "If he left London by three, like Rawlins said, he'd a made it back here. If he took that other road he took it on purpose."

"Why'd he do somethin' barmy like that?"

"Get himself a little peace and quiet." Chief checked his watch, there wasn't any chance of sleeping tonight, but he'd go back up to the room and get what rest he could. He wanted to be sharp in the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

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They pulled to a stop in front of a small business. Lebrecht and Garrison waited in the car while Broiler went and tried the door on the side of the building that led to the living quarters above the shop. The blackout curtains were in place upstairs, they could see no sign of life until the dim light of a lamp silhouetted Broiler when the downstairs door opened. He motioned them to him with a quick wave of his hand.

Lebrecht raised the American pistol and pressed the muzzle against his prisoner's neck, at the angle of his jaw. "Lieutenant I took the opportunity to check this weapon over when you were resting at Mr. Byrd's. It is in excellent condition and I am a very good shot. If you try anything at all I will surely kill you. Do you understand me?"

At Garrison's resigned nod Lebrecht pulled the latch on his door and let it swing open. Sliding out of his seat he was careful to keep the weapon out of sight in the pocket of his jacket but he kept it pointed at the American as he made his way around the vehicle. He opened the passenger's door and motioned for him to get out. Watching closely he waited for the injured prisoner to hitch himself away from the door enough so he could turn and slide his legs out. As soon as his feet touched the ground Lebrecht reached out to hoist him out of the car. He kept his hand on him until he'd found his footing but let him limp slowly towards the shop on his own while he encouraged him along from close behind with an occassional prod from the pistol.

"Hurry along, you two," the woman standing in the open doorway hissed. "You'll have the district warden out after us if he sees this light!"

In the darkness Garrison couldn't make out the sign over the shop door, but he knew from the smell that it was a bakery of some kind, and he had the address fixed in his memory. Byrd and his second-hand shop and now a bakery…both places people would likely stay and gossip with the owner, both places fairly easy for an agent to make contact,… looked like intelligence would have their job cut out for them once he turned in his report. _If_ he turned in his report. He tried to pick up speed as he was asked but from the shove he got from behind apparently 'Carlton' didn't think he was doing his best. He stumbled and would have fallen if the lady with the lamp hadn't reached a hand out to prevent it. Willie, he was sure, would have been just as glad to see him face down in the mud.

The woman raised the lantern to get a better look and scowled at the three men standing on her doorstep. "Get inside, all of you!" As soon as she closed and bolted the door she turned on the one who had been pointed out as the senior officer of the pair. "Are you completely daft?"

"If you can provide a secure place for our friend to rest, gnädige Frau, I will be happy to explain everything." Lebrecht answered, complete with a charming smile that she seemed to be immune to.

Garrison's safekeeping was passed over to Willie, who wasn't inclined to be too gentle. He found his right arm twisted up behind his back and to help speed things up as they made their way down the hall Broiler kicked his left foot along if he didn't move it fast enough to suit him. There was a storage room on this lower level, from the brief look he got before a rag was shoved in his mouth and a bag pulled over his head, it appeared to be bare.

Broiler pulled his left arm around to meet the right and tied his wrists behind him with some kind of cord. There was enough of the stuff to run a couple of loops around Craig's neck before he attached it to the bindings that secured his hands again. That served two purposes, and it was effective too. It kept the bag in place and stopped him from trying to work his hands around to the front of his body by pulling them down over his hips and working them in front of his feet. If he tried anything like that he'd choke to death long before he accomplished the feat.

The door slammed a couple of feet behind him. Garrison waited and listened to make sure no one had stayed in the room with him. After about five minutes he decided to do a little exploring. Taking his time he backed up until he felt a wall at his back then side stepped along until he found the door. There was little chance of it but Craig tried the knob anyway, just to be sure the door hadn't been left unlocked. As he expected, it had not. Continuing along the wall he made his way completely around the room. There wasn't a thing in it, at least not shoved back against the walls. He wasn't willing to go wandering around the center of the room just yet, he didn't have enough energy. Finding a corner he judged to be across from the door he backed into it and slid down as he let his injured leg slip out in front of him.

Garrison was breathing hard by the time he was sitting on the cold floor of the storage room. That had more to do with having a flour sack tied over his head than it did with the effort it took to make his search and sit down. He tried to take a deep breath to slow his breathing but choked on the flour dust from the inside of the sack. Clamping his lips tightly over the musty rag he concentrated on getting all his air through short shallow breaths through his nose. The air inside the bag was heating up and he was starting to sweat. He didn't have a problem with small spaces,.. really… it was the air. When the air he was trying to breathe in was the same temperature as the stuff he was breathing out it didn't feel like he was breathing at all.

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"You goin' up, then?" Goniff was still curled up on the sofa, Chief and Casino had gone back upstairs to rest but Actor still sat in his chair pretending to read.

"There's little point in it." The Italian indicated the tall cabinet clock that stood in the corner of the room with the stem of his pipe. It was already well past three in the morning. Rawlings had ordered the trucks for sunrise but he was sure the men would be assembling long before that. He watched his little cockney teammate chew at his fingers, a sure sign of nerves.

"I wish they wasn't leavin' us behind here." Goniff shot a quick look at Actor then went back to studying the flames on the hearth. "Seems as if we could be doin' more good if we was out there with one a the trucks."

"Goniff, you heard the Sergeant Major. We'll have the radios to monitor, and the phones as soon as they are repaired. The men will call from town as soon as they hear anything, but if the Warden reports in, or if someone calls for him, this is where the call will come and if we are all out searching no one will be here to receive it." He could see the little man wasn't convinced and he shared his desired to do more than just wait. "If he is injured and they find him somewhere close by they'll be bringing him back here, if it's not too serious, so we will need to be ready for that possibility." The Italian con man sat his book aside on the table. "And let's not forget that general."

"Him?" The pick pocket turned to stare. "Bloody Hell! There's worse to worry over than the likes a him!"

"It may seem so now, Goniff, but a man like that is capable of doing the Lieutenant a great deal of harm." Actor scowled down at the pipe that had gone cold in his hand and started the process of relighting it. "I know you are concerned about the Warden being injured and having to return to the states and prison because of that, but it is just as likely that this General Weston could have him reassigned and we would be facing the same dilemma."

"Well, but what 'r we gonna do 'bout that?" Goniff had gone from staring at his Italian teammate to picking at a loose thread on the arm of the sofa.

"We must come up with a way to distract the general until the Warden is found." He puffed at the pipe, sending wreaths of smoke into the air around him. "If he is blaming the Lieutenant for this Captain Ward's death then we will have to find some way to change his mind."

"How'r _we_ gonna do that?" He was getting a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he continued to concentrate on picking the thread out of the tight weave that covered the piece of furniture he was sitting on.

The sophisticated confidence artist seemed to be deep in thought as he fixed a steady gaze on the second story man who he sat curled into a ball on the sofa. "You were there, you know what happened… According to Sergeant Major Rawlins, General Weston and Lieutenant Garrison have never met." There was no real reason they couldn't take over for the Warden and just resolve the issue themselves…so the solution was simple. "You will have to explain it to him."

Goniff's head jerked up. "_**Me?**_"

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"You are barking mad!" She was set up to help downed fliers make it back across the channel. Occasionally she'd even played hostess to an undercover team, over to get some secret information to take back to Germany with them, or she would be given a document to pass along… But kidnapping American soldiers out of England? She could only stare at the two who sat in her small lounge and try to keep her mouth from falling open in amazement. They were both completely barmy.

"You see Karl, I am not the only one who questions your plans." Broiler sat back with a smug look of satisfaction on his face. It was the first contact who put this wild idea in Karl's imagination. He never would have dreamed it up himself. Using the Amerikaner to get across England to the coast, yes, possibly that had some merit. But to take him all the way back to Germany?

"Wilhelm, I have told you," the other man said quietly. "You have no right to question my decisions."

"Someone must." Broiler snorted. "You haven't the intelligence or cunning to do it for yourself."

Lebrecht was out of his chair and across the small room before Broiler could react. He grabbed the fabric on the front of the jacket his subordinate wore, jerking him up onto his feet to face him. "Ich werde nicht mehr davon haben! Verstehen Sie mich?" He had the front of the man's shirt in his fist and he twisted until the fabric pulled tight enough to choke.

Broiler clawed at Lebrecht's hand trying to get him to release him but he was already growing short of air. The chair he had been sitting in was directly behind him, preventing him from getting away, and Lebrecht had strength born of rage, he couldn't push him off. He finally just went limp and waited, hoping the man would give up and drop him back in his chair.

The German officer released his hold and shoved the man back into his seat. "Ich habe Ihnen erzählt!" Lebrecht stood for a moment glaring down at Broiler and watched as he rubbed at his throat before he returned to his seat. He lifted the wine glass off the table that sat next to his chair and took a sip before picking the conversation with their hostess as if there had been no interruption. "This man is believed to be an American commando officer. According to Herr Byrd he leads a very unique group. He will have many secrets that our superiors back in Germany will be glad of. I will see to it that he is turned over to the proper authorities, those with the expertise to convince him to divulge those secrets." He smiled down into his wine glass. "And I will not fail to remind them who it was who brought them their prize."

"So! You risk our escape on the hope of a promotion for yourself?" The accusation came out in a horse whisper as Broiler continued to nurse his bruised throat.

"And why should I not? Command does not realize my value…" Lebrecht leaned forward in his chair and put a hand out towards him as he included Broiler in his dreams. "… _our_ value Wilhelm. We will have the choice of our next assignment after we return… What will it be, Wilhelm, eh? A fighter squadron? A bomber to command so that we may carry the fight to our enemy instead of just sending back weather and visibility reports." Then he laughed, "Who knows, they may send us to an special Intelligence unit once they realize the value of the information our prisoner carries… and find out how easily we took him away from his own people. You will see I'm right when we return, Wilhelm. They cannot fail to reward us for this."

_Find out how easily?... _She shoved the sound of the man droning on about all their imagined medals and promotions into the background. How could anyone be so foolish? He was sacrificing their whole operation for his personal advancement! Didn't he realize? Didn't he care that the next lost flyer, or the next tidbit of information she was sent might not make it back to Germany because of this asinine stunt he insisted upon pulling? She had half a notion to engineer a run in with one of the many patrols that secured the area around the military portion of the harbor instead of sending him to the civilian fishing docks. That would be a proper 'reward' for him. _No_, she thought, as her instinct for self preservation asserted itself, she couldn't risk it… _They might not kill the idiot. _

"Have you thought of what will happen if he gets away from you?" _You bloody git! If your prize is a commando he's even more dangerous to me,_ she thought with disgust. "This man has been to two safe houses with you. He could turn us in… He could destroy this operation with the little he knows now." She couldn't stem her rising anger. "I could end up in jail you fool!"

"In what way can he do us harm?" Lebrecht didn't like her tone but he had to handle her carefully. They didn't have the directions to the last link in their trip home yet. He didn't know where to find the ship that would take them across the channel, only she had that information. He had to allay her fears and convince her, and Broiler, that he was right.

"Lieutenant Garrison is injured. He cannot run from us, he cannot fight his way free. We are in complete control of him." he explained reasonably. "I have told him if I do not have his help in getting through the barricades we find in our path I am quite willing to kill who I must to get on where we bound by our duty to go. It makes no difference to me if they are military or civilian sentries standing between me and my goal. He believes in my determination to return to Germany." He turned on his comrade. "Wilhelm, you saw for yourself how he cooperated when the Polizist approached the car."

"But even if what you say is true, he's a trained observer. He knows where I am! Do you know how hard it is to set up a situation like this." She indicated the room with a wave of her hand. "This is a brilliant arrangement I have here. I've helped dozens of fliers make it back across the channel. I'm known around town, at the checkpoints…the men who lead the patrols trust me. I can take them right to the docks in the back of one of the delivery vans if needs be. Are you so willing to risk the safety of the men who might need me in the future,.. for this?"

"Die liebe Dame, you are in no danger from this. There is no way the Amerikaner can escape from me, but if it will put your mind at rest…" he could give this promise because he was supremely confident in his own abilities now that they had come this far. "If there is the slightest chance of him slipping from my grasp I will execute him on the spot." And since he still needed his help he turned to his comrade. "Leutnant Broiler will see that it is done if I cannot."


	8. Chapter 8

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"Now you have the frequencies for the hand units we'll have on each of the trucks and the one Markham will set up in town." Gil told the two men standing on the broad steps that led down to the trucks that sat waiting. "If they make the repairs on the phones and you hear anything, or someone shows up out 'ere with any information, you give us a shout on the radio first, you understand? Markham will be able to pick you up from here and send it out, if we're in range we'll hear it… If not we'll tuck in where we can along the road and call in. Markham will relay our information to you, just as you'll do to 'im." Rawlins eyed the pair that were to be left behind. "No mucking about!"

He wasn't really worried that either of the two men he was leaving behind would take off. If a full complement of guards couldn't stop them from waltzing away whenever they jolly well pleased, Gil knew the skeleton force he was leaving in place would have little chance of even slowing them down if they took a notion to run. No they wouldn't leave without knowing what had happened to Lieutenant Garrison, but they might strike out on their own in an effort to find him themselves. He stood there a moment and reconsidered letting them come along... but there was that general. There was nothing for it, he'd just have to trust that they'd not do anything that foolish.

"All right, lads," Rawlins ordered. "Into the trucks with you. Corporal Jergens," he shouted to the man he'd put in charge of the other truck. "You head straight in to London and report Lieutenant Garrison missing just like we discussed. Stop in where ever you can on the road back, if the phones have been put right report your progress…We'll do the same." And he gave the innocents standing on the step one last meaningful stare. "You two 'ad best be here to get our calls when they come in or you won't see your beds 'til well after this war is over and done with. That's how many trips round the bloody obstacle course you'll be making."

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When Lebrecht shoved the door open he thought his prize had found another way to escape him. The American was slumped in the far corner of the room and when the door hit the wall with a resounding crack he didn't move a muscle. Karl made his way across the space, his hand already seeking out the knife he carried in his pocket. He dropped down in front of the prisoner and put his hand to the rope around the man's neck frantically working his fingers between the cord and the prisoner's flesh. Still the American made no move or sound. Lebrecht slashed at the binding, drawing the hood off as the encircling rope fell away. He removed the gag from the man's mouth, struck him twice across the face and was finally rewarded by a wheezing breath.

"Lieutenant!" he called out as he continued to slap the captive firmly on either cheek. "Leutnant Garrison, wachen Sie auf!"

Craig felt the sensation of cool air on his face and he gulped at it, drawing it deep into his lungs…along with the fibers that made up the gag and about half a pound of flour that had found its way into his nose. The combination caused a fit of coughing but, unlike the last time, there was no cord around his neck now. He'd fallen into a pattern of shallow breathing to keep from inhaling the flour dust from the inside of the bag. He kept at it until his overwhelming need for more oxygen demanded a deeper breath, the wracking cough that resulted pulled the cord a bit tighter each time. The last thing he remembered was a coughing jag that ended with a sneeze…

"Lieutenant!" The American's face was fading back to normal from the alarming dusky purple hue that greeted him when he first removed the hood…and his eyes were open. They were bloodshot and slightly out of focus but they were open. The light streaming in from the door dimmed and Lebrecht twisted around to find the woman contact gazing down at him. "If you would bring some water, Frau Horner, bitte."

Craig took in another experimental breath, slower this time, not so deep. It still caused a bout of coughing, but it didn't last as long this time. By the time he recovered enough to try out another deeper breath their reluctant hostess was back with the water…and a wet towel she roughly mopped the lingering flour off his face with. When she was done he finally got a decent breath that didn't carry a load of annoying dust and flour particles. He started to see more than just big black spots and when his vision cleared up enough he focused on her. "Thanks." was all he managed to choke out of his raw throat before it tighten into another round of coughing.

She shoved the towel she held into Lebrecht's hand and pushed to her feet. Standing over them the look she turned on Garrison was one of pure loathing. "Save your thanks, Lieutenant. It would please me all the same if you'd managed to choked yourself to death, but getting a corpse out of here would be more bother than I'm willing to go through tonight."

The two soldiers watched her leave and after a moment his jailer offered up a cup of cool water. Craig leaned forward and took a sip and winced at the pain that stabbed his throat. Lebrecht's voice held a congenial note when he advised. "I wouldn't count on her help, Lieutenant. She doesn't appear to be very sympathetic to your situation."

Garrison managed to get all of the water in the cup down and then he sat through having the remaining flour wet-toweled from his face and hair before Lebrecht left him alone again. He was sopping wet from the clean up, he had a pounding headache and he could still hear the blood coursing through his ears as it made it's way out of his skull and back into his body where it belonged. That moldy old rag was back in his mouth again, held in place by the length of cord Lebrecht cut away from his throat.

Craig leaned back in his corner, closed his eyes and wondered what in the Hell he'd been thinking when he first decided to go quietly along with this little kidnapping.

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"There!" Chief tapped Rawlins on the shoulder and pointed through the dim morning light to a spot off to the right side of the road ahead of them.

A sharp rap on the cab of the truck by Sergeant Major Rawlins brought the vehicle to a halt. Chief didn't wait, even before it rolled to a stop he was over the side, already trotting down to investigate what he'd seen. There was a small opening surrounded by broken branches in the shoulder high thicket that lined the road. Chief dropped down and took a good look at the low mound of earth that made up the edge of the road bed… The rain had smoothed the edges, almost washed the sign away but he could still make out two flattened patches on it, just about right for the distance between the tires of a jeep.

"What've you got, lad?" Rawlins asked. He was off the truck and had several of the men with him but he was keeping them well back from the young man, careful to stay out of his way.

Chief didn't answer but reached out instead and tested the branches that now arched just over his head. They were limber enough, he thought… they could've let a car through and then just sprung back to block the view from the road. He straightened up and easily shouldered his way through the leafy barrier. On the other side he found the Warden's cap sitting half way down a grassy slope that was marred by deep muddy tracks cut into it by the tires of a jeep that was resting nose down in a gully that lay about a dozen feet below.

"It's here!" he shouted as he scrambled and slid his way down to the battered jeep.

Rawlins pushed his way through the branches that separated him from Chief and then stood and watched as the young man carefully made his search around the obviously empty vehicle.

g

"This is where you're headed." She went over the directions with the two German fliers again before she folded the map and handed it over. "This route I've marked will keep you clear of most of the military sections but there will be constables patrolling the area between here and the docks. The Home Guard is out as well so you'd best be ready with a story to explain why you're out so early."

"It should cause us no difficulty…" he said, remembering their earlier encounter. "The police stopped us on the way here. They presented no problem," Lebrecht said with a laugh, "in fact the man assisted us in locating you."

She spent a moment just staring. Surly she imagined that… No one would be that stupid! "He what?"

"I caught Leutnant Garrison trying to misdirect us." Lebrecht smiled proudly down at her. "We needed better directions to find you and when I showed the Polizist the address Herr Byrd gave me, he very kindly explained how to reach you."

"You are a complete arse, aren't you?" she turned away and tried to control her rising fear and irritation. If anything happened and these three were caught the American would give her up with no hesitation, it was his duty, she knew that…But this,…this idiot,… It was the second time he'd just casually used his first contacts name, a name she herself hadn't known until now, she was certain he wouldn't be clever enough to hold that kind of information back if he was captured. And now the daft bugger had just admitted that, even if they were discovered and all of them were killed while they tried to escape, he'd left behind someone who would recognize his body, someone who could remember her address and make a connection so that she would end up losing her life too! As much as she wanted to see him dead, she knew the only way she would survive this would be to see to it the trio wasn't picked up, but made it back to Germany alive... More's the pity!

"You won't be able to just drive the motorcar up to the dock and get on the boat. And you _aren't_ to ask directions, you _aren't_ to volunteer any information if you're stopped. You answer the questions you are asked and leave it at that… Do you understand me?" The man smiled his irritating smile and nodded in her direction but it didn't make her feel any less vulnerable. "Leave the bloody car where I showed you on the map and make your way along the beach to the north, back to where the boat is tied up." Lifting the patterned scarf from around her neck she handed it over. "You'll use this for a sign."

Lebrecht accepted the cloth, tying it as a cravat around his own throat and tucking it into his coat. Surely it wasn't a simple as that…Where was the intrigue, the thrill? "There is no password to use? Nothing I must tell the captain of this boat?"

"I've told you, haven't I? You say absolutely nothing! If you even make a comment about the weather before they take you onboard you'll pay for it with your lives." There were three who worked the small fishing boat she knew, and they carried guns and were prepared to use them. She briefly reconsidered and gave a passing thought to making up a password for the gormless nit just to be rid of him and the threat he and his prisoner represented… But that would put the men that worked on the boat in jeopardy. And she had to give this idiot's partner a chance to get away, didn't she. He hadn't been party to the gaffs his superior had been making… Then there was the matter of their 'hostage' They'd had the American with them when they made contact with the agent that sent them on to her… He'd obviously thought the man was valuable enough to try and get him out of England… She took a deep breath, determined to do her duty. "If you want to live to see Germany again, just hand the scarf over to the man waiting on the dock by the boat."

g

"Man I hope the other guys are findin' somethin', cause we're sure comin' up empty here!" Casino complained as he hoisted himself into the back of the truck again.

They'd covered the distance to the London headquarters in record time. Corporal Jergens checked with HQ, just as Rawlins had, but no one had seen or heard anything of Lieutenant Garrison since he signed out after his meeting. As instructed by the Sergeant Major, Jergens left word that their CO was missing and that they'd started a search of the area along the route he usually took to return to base,… and along the most likely detour. The head of security, Sergeant Michelson, wasn't too concerned, believing, as they had at first, that the storm and then the trouble with the phones had caused a delay and that Garrison had simply been unable to report in. He ordered them to complete their search though, and report their findings to him by phone, or runner if they had to. If they didn't manage to find some sign of Garrison along the route Michelson would launch a full blown search.

The return trip was taking much longer as they carefully searched the road and stopped at all of the inns and pubs along the way. It didn't matter to them if the places were open for business or not, so they weren't making too many friends among the inn keepers and publicans as they rousted them from their beds. Casino had just argued a guy into taking a good look at the picture they'd brought along. Once the joker finally figured out a man was missing, that it wasn't some kind of joke, he was helpful enough, but he hadn't seen the Warden before…none of the people they'd talked to so far had.

"I know this next stretch," Jergens said. "It's private homes for almost five miles along here. We'll keep a close eye on the road for signs of the jeep, but there won't be any need to stop, unless we find someone doing an early turn in their garden."

Even keeping the speed down so they could give the road a good looking over they made pretty good time. They came up on another string of pubs and inns and finally found someone who recognized Garrison when they showed her his picture.

"Oh yes, I remember him right enough! He stopped and had a bite yesterday, but he was well away from here before the storm hit." She squinted through thick glasses as she took another look. "You say he's gone missing, has he? Poor soul... I hope you find him, lad. He seemed a respectable young gentleman, he did."

g

Lebrecht slowed to a stop and waited for the guard to approach. Even on Frau Horner's 'safe route' this was the third check point they'd been through since leaving her, and each time the knot that formed in his stomach got larger. '_It should get easier', _he thought, but it didn't seem to. Just as the GI came to a halt by the window he nudged Garrison's arm until he held his documents out to him.

Leaning forward so he could smile at the soldier standing at the passenger side window he explained. "We are just bringing our friend back to his lodgings, Sergeant." Lebrecht shot an amused look at the man sitting next to him. "As you can see he is in no shape to drive himself."

The guard leaned over and considered the officer with a frown. "You OK Lieutenant?"

He could feel the business end of the pistol pressing through the thin padding and upholstery of the back of his seat and he had no doubt Lebrecht's weapon was aimed at the soldier standing next to the car. "Bar fight at the 'O' club last night, Sergeant."

"You win, sir?" The NCO asked with a smile.

Garrison reached up and rubbed the back of his right hand along his bruised jaw. "I don't think so."

"Where're you headed?" the guard asked.

Garrison improvised quickly. "I've got temporary quarters over in Tilbury."

The sentry switched his attention to the driver to give his directions. "You'll have to skirt the base along this outer road here, and come in from the south. I'm afraid your car won't be allowed through the barricades." He addressed the officer sitting in the car again. "You up to making the hike into officer country, sir?"

Garrison smiled. "I can probably handle the hike, Sergeant, but I'm not looking forward to all the questions I'll get along the way."

"Sorry about the fight, sir." The man stepped back with a laugh and waved the car on down the road past the checkpoint. "Better luck next time."

"Thanks, Sarge." Garrison gave the guard a quick salute as Carlton put the car in gear and eased through the barrier and back onto the main street. The lump in his back disappeared.

"Very good, Lieutenant. That's another man who owes you his life."

"You're mistaken if you think you'll get through the checkpoints around the harbor as easily as that." Garrison gestured back the way they'd come.

"For your sake Lieutenant,…and the sake of the men manning those checkpoints, I hope you are wrong." Lebrecht stated the thinly veiled threat.

Garrison laughed. "Killing me or a guard will only buy you more trouble than you already have."

"Erlauben Sie mir, ihn jetzt, Karl zu töten, es gibt keinen, um zu hören."

The hair stood on the back of Garrison's neck. He was almost sure of Lebrecht, almost certain that he would do anything he had to, to take him back to Germany with them. Unfortunately it was Broiler who held the gun pressed to the back of his skull.

Lebrecht waited, letting the prisoner worry over his fate. "Beruhigen Sie sich Wilhelm… Wilhelm!" Lebrecht let his gaze linger on his prisoner a moment longer before he put the car in gear and turned his attention to the road again. "I should be more careful, Lieutenant Garrison, if I were you. Wilhelm may not be inclined to follow my command next time."


	9. Chapter 9

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"Where is it!" The shout startled the men gathered near the jeep. They'd all been too intent on watching Chief has he tried to make sense of the condition of the vehicle and the ground surrounding it to notice the elderly man's arrival.

Rawlins turned and watched the old man as he elbowed his way through the shrubbery and descended on them from the edge of the road. The old gentleman had a cane with him but he was brandishing it in the air as he grumbled his way towards them. Since the tip of the walking stick only contacted the ground at every sixth or seventh step Gil suspected that what it was really for was underlining his points and filling out his threats rather than assisting him as he walked. "Where is what, sir?"

"My Bloody car, is what! And don't take that tone with me, young man. You know very well what I'm talking about." The old man leaned in close when he came abreast of the British soldier who seemed to be in charge of the group milling about. "One of your crowd's pinched my motorcar!"

"Now 'old on there…" Rawlins put his hand out and captured the failing cane. "When did the car go missing?"

"Last night in the middle of the blooming storm is when, and you know it as well as I do!" He jerked the stick free and then shook the carved grip of the cane under Rawlins' nose. "Thought you could just nip back here and pick this out of the ditch for him, did you? Well, I'm too sharp for that!"

"You knew about the jeep? When?" Rawlins reached out and caught the old man's cane again. "When did you find the jeep? Was there anyone in it?"

"What are you blathering on about? Of course there was no one in it! There was no reason for him to stay, because he took my car, didn't he? And I came away as soon as I noticed the car was gone from the drive when I got up this morning to see to the cow."

"Did you report it?"

"How do you suppose I would I do that, then?" The elder gentleman propped his knarled fists on his hips for a moment and then leaned forward to shout his next few words in the Sergeant's ear. "The Bloody phones are on the blink aren't they…. And don't you stand there and ask me if I drove in to report it in person. I can't drive, can I? Because he's nicked my motorcar!"

Chief left Rawlins to deal with the fuming old codger and concentrated on searching the vehicle. The jeep had been washed nearly clean by the downpour the previous night but there was still a sticky substance under the dash next to the steering column that came away red on his fingers. He shoved along the seat and checked up under the dash on the other side, close to the door. "Sergeant!"

Rawlins turned and focused his attention on him as he scrambled up the slippery bank. "What've you found, lad?"

"There's blood on the underside of the dash, and the first aid kit's missing." Chief directed the Sergeant Major's attention to marks in the slope near the car, gashes where a foot slipped and tore the sod back to reveal the muddy earth beneath. "Looks like he got out, but he had help… There's more 'n one set of prints along here."

"I'll want compensation for my car if he's done any damage to it!" the old gentleman interjected loudly.

Rawlins had quickly forgotten the old man as he tried to make sense of the shallow, muddy, impressions Chief was pointing out. He found it hard to focus his attention on him as he turned back to face him again. "Sir?"

"Well look at the quality of his driving, man!" The cane stabbed out in the direction of the wreck. "He's run his ruddy jeep into a ditch and then just come along and helped himself to my car. You don't think he'll be any more cautious of _it_ do you?"

g

They finally reached their destination and though it seemed like it had taken several hours, that it should be mid-day by now, the sun was still low on the horizon, just beginning to stream between the breaking storm clouds where the sky met the sea. The car was left in a mostly deserted neighborhood and they made their way down to the shoreline and along the beach, finally reaching the quay where Lebrecht made contact with the boat crew that would take them across the channel to Germany. It was as easy as their contact from the bakery had assured Lebrecht it would be. All he had to do was stroll along the dock and a man approached him, commented on his cravat and then asked after the health of Margaret Horner… Their reception was a bit cool though, no one expected they'd be dealing with a kidnapped American officer.

"I mean to keep my promise to Frau Horner, Lieutenant Garrison. If you try anything you will be shot. Now, Wilhelm will go first, and then you. That way we can be sure you will make it safely onto the boat." Lebrecht smiled as he gave his instruction. He was supremely confident in achieving his goal now and was already mentally basking in the accolades he imagined would be heaped upon his shoulders when he handed this man over to his superiors.

Broiler was already set on deck waiting when Garrison went over the side. It was slow going for him because of the stiffened knee. When he got about two rungs from the bottom he felt a hand on the back of his coat and he was jerked from the ladder. He landed with a jolt and nearly lost his balance.

"Wilhelm!" Lebrecht called down to them. "Be careful of our guest."

As soon as he recovered his footing Lebrecht turned from watching them where they stood on deck back to helping with the mooring lines on the dock. Garrison made a quick survey of the boat. After giving the final OK for them to board the captain had returned to the wheelhouse, the only other seaman on board was up at the bow already coiling one of the lines neatly onto the deck. What he needed now was some way to escape from his two captors that wouldn't cause them to trigger an alarm that might shut this little operation down. He'd knew never get away from them on land, not with his leg, so he'd have to use the water but he needed to time it just right…

Craig wasn't quite ready to make his move but he needed to set the scene, get Broiler wound up just enough. He started in, taking advantage of his brief time alone with the man. "I don't get it. You're smart enough to know you'll never get away with this." he told him. "Why don't you just give up now? You're out of it, you're safe. There's no shame in being captured…."

"Schweigen! Silence! You think to tempt me?" the German junior officer sneered. "We have made it this far, Leutnant Garrison." Broiler was just beginning to believe that maybe Lebrecht had been right to bring the man along after all. "We will get back to Germany, and when we do, I will share in the honor of bringing you…"

"You've made it this far," Craig agreed. "But you still have the harbor patrols out there. They stop all the boats for a complete search and check a of the crew's papers. Go ask your captain, there." Garrison tossed his chin in the direction of the wheelhouse. "He's probably got papers ready for you, but he didn't know anything about me. There's no way you're going to get me past those patrols…. And those men have orders to shoot first." He was keeping his voice low, keeping it just between the two of them… And he could see that he'd sown the seeds of doubt in the man's newly emerging confidence.

Broiler shifted on his feet as he considered the prisoner's claims. They'd made it this far, yes, but the American was right, there was still the channel to cross.

"Was ist es, Wilhelm?" Lebrecht asked as he dropped off the ladder onto the deck and came immediately to Broiler's side. He could see his comrade was already agitated and was afraid it wouldn't take much for him to pull the trigger and kill their prize. When they were in sight of the harbor Broiler had finally relaxed and even speculated with him what rank and assignments they would be given when they returned. Now it was obvious by the scowl on his face that his doubt had returned. "Warum sehen Sie so ernst aus?"

"Er sagt, dass wir aufgeben sollten, bevor wir getötet werden." Broiler gestured towards the American with his pistol sharing his warning and voicing his own growing concern. "Er sagt, dass sie alle Boote, Karl suchen. Wir werden Papiere, aber wie steht's mit ihm haben? Wie erklären wir ihn?…"

Lebrecht considered their prisoner for a moment, if the man was telling the truth Broiler had every right to be concerned. The possibility of their hostage being discovered if the boat underwent a thorough search was very real. He clapped Broiler on the shoulder and turned for the wheelhouse. "Ich werde das mit dem Kapitän besprechen." Within a few moments he returned. "Thank you for your concern Lieutenant Garrison, but our captain informs me that our chances of being stopped by a patrol are quite low."

Garrison returned the man's smile with a grim one of his own. "Then he hasn't seen the same reports I have."

Lebrecht studied their captive for a moment. He could have information on new levels of security that the captain didn't have… or he could be playing him for a fool again. "Possibly not, but I believe I will rely on his expertise. Even if the patrols have been increased he assures me any action would take place well away from shore and we will have ample room to 'make a run for it,' as you Americans say. We have no need to worry now."

Broiler jabbed his pistol in the American's ribs. "Wir sollten ihn jetzt binden, und senden ihm unten."

"Don't be so cruel Wilhelm." For their prisoner's benefit Lebrecht answered in English.

The small crew had been busy, the lines were coiled neatly on deck and the boat was already pulling out into the channel that led to open water. Lebrecht took a moment to survey the scene before he continued. "For now we will let our friend have his freedom. You see, it must last him for a very long time."

g

It seemed they'd spent hours sitting in silence, waiting for some word to come. The phone rang first, and just as Actor scooped the hand set off its cradle the radio sputtered to life.

"Yes?" Actor strained to hear but there was another voice on the other end of the line stridently overriding Sergeant Major Rawlins. The garbled sounds coming from the radio just added another layer of sound he had to overcome. He placed his hand over the mouthpiece. "Goniff, see to the radio while I take this call."

Goniff snatched up the radio pack and hauled it to the other side of the room before he pulled the earpiece off the hook and depressed the button as he'd been shown. "Who's that, then?" Straining to hear through the static he caught snips of what sounded like Jergens voice. "I can't make out anything you'r sayin', mate. Twiddle some of them dials a yours and see if it makes things better." All he got for his suggestion was a loud squawk before the unit went silent on him. He stood staring at it a moment, waiting for it to come back to life. Goniff gave the radio a quick shake to see if that would help, but nothing happened so he hauled the unit back to Actor's side of the room and settled down to listen in on his telephone conversation.

"I see. Did the old gentleman have any idea when this may have been?… Have you considered the possibility that one event could have nothing to do with the other?… Very well, what will you do now?…. Of course, Sergeant Major, we will continue to stand by here." Actor replaced the handset and turned to face Goniff.

"Well?…."

g

He and Broiler had been left alone on the deck again as Lebrecht went back to his conference with the captain. Craig decided to make the best of the opportunity.

"You're the one with the brains, how come he's the one giving all the orders?" Garrison got just the reaction he was looking for. Broiler's eyes slipped off him and when they landed on Lebrecht the contemptuous sneer was obvious. "Probably has someone higher up pulling strings for him, doesn't he?"

"His uncle on the general staff." Broiler answered without even realizing it.

"Which puts him in charge, when it's you with all the intelligence and ability, to follow his orders."

The junior officer's head snapped up and he turned. "I know what you are doing, Leutnant Garrison." Broiler readjusted his grip on the pistol. "You hope to divide us…

"But you're already divided. You haven't wanted me along from the start. You were smart enough to know right from the beginning that I'd slow you down and put your escape at risk." He gave the man a scornful smile. _"Wir müssen uns schnell bewegen, und er wird uns verlangsamen. Diese verrückte Idee wird uns getötet sehen." _he quoted. "Rufen Sie nicht zurück?"

"Sie können Deutsch sprechen?" Broiler's pistol dropped as he took a step back.

"Of course I speak it!" Garrison's laugh cut the air between them. "I wouldn't be able to do my job if I didn't. And I speak it like a native, Leutnant Broiler."

"So Herr Byrd was right, you are an important man after all?"

"Yes," he agreed. "Important enough that there was probably someone out looking for me about five minutes after I didn't show up at my base."

"Let them look." Broiler scoffed, but it was obvious that he was growing uneasy. "They will never find us."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you…. You heard Byrd. The base was right near his place…. We passed it on the way there." Garrison lied smoothly, wishing the tale he was spinning was true. "If I know my guys, they were all ready to go by then, they probably saw the car…."

"But you are injured! You said you were running away… to have time alone. Do not try and fool me, Lieutenant. There is no one looking for you. You have no duty to perform, no reason to be missed… "

Craig raised his bandaged hand with a derisive snort of laughter. "You think they'd put me off duty for this Leutnant Broiler? If that's the way it works in your outfit I might just consider changing sides!" Garrison could see the panic building in Broiler's eyes. It wouldn't take much more but he had to play him, time it just right. "Oh they're out there alright. Didn't you see that jeep following us? It pulled in as the boat was casting off." He watched as the man's eyes flicked off him again in favor of searching the docks. "They're close enough to take a sniper's shot, Leutnant Broiler, and I guarantee everyone of them's capable of hitting his mark because I trained them myself. I'd get out of sight if I were you." He glanced over his shoulder. "They're probably close enough that all I have to do is raise my voice and…" Garrison took his chance, he'd been moving back towards the rail as they were talking, it was pressed up against his back now, he gripped the railing and started to swing away from Broiler. The gun the German officer held discharged and he felt the burn of a bullet sear its way along the flesh at the top of his shoulder as he rolled over the rail.


	10. Chapter 10

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When the radio squawked again it was a clear signal coming from the village instead of the garbled static they'd received during the first transmission. "Base this is Markam. Do you read, base? Come in please."

Goniff slipped the earpiece off its hook before Actor got his hands on it, turned his shoulder to the con man, and depressed the button to make contact. He recognized Lawrence Markham's voice. He was one of the permanent guards that worked on the grounds and Goniff liked the young man, he'd even been to the pub with them a time or two. "This is the house Lawry. What've you found out, anything?"

"Use my last name like I taught you, Goniff… We've had a faint transmission from Jergens' unit, base. Jergens said the Lieutenant stopped about thirty minutes from London. They found a lady who remembered him. She told them that he left before the storm hit. They're on their way back and requesting an update from your end."

"Tell 'em Rawlins' mob found the Warden's jeep off in a ditch, but they 'aven't found him yet. They're checking the houses round where the jeep went off the road now, t' see if someone took him in. Oh! And the phones 'r workin',... least down that road."

"Good to know about the phones. Maybe they'll have some luck here soon. I'll let Jergens know about the jeep, base. Oh, and Goniff… there was a general's staff car went through here just now. Judging by the speed they were going they should be with you in about ten or fifteen minutes. Markham, out."

g

Another bullet hit the water right by his left ear, zinging past like a miniature torpedo. Garrison went spread eagle in the frigid water and tried to stay totally limp, playing possum and praying Broiler wouldn't risk calling attention to the boat from shore by taking a third shot.

"Sie Idiot! Sie töteten ihn!" Lebrecht shouted, his words echoing across the water as he leaned over the rail and stared down at the red stain forming next to the head of the body floating in the sea.

As Craig floated face down in the water he could heard the muffled shout and the sound of the motor as the boat approached. He waited to get a gaff or hook in the back, but what he felt was the hull hit him in the side, and as it rode over him, forcing him down, he dove towards the bottom scrambling to get away from the prop .

"Er versuchte, Karl zu flüchten!" Broiler defended his actions in a hoarse whisper as he followed the other man who pulled himself along the railing toward the aft section of the boat, still desperately searching the waters around them. "Wenn er Hilfe erreichte, hätte er uns darin gedreht. Wir würden Gefangener genommen worden sein."

Lebrecht watched the water boiling up from the propellers, hoping for the man to surface, hoping that somehow he was still alive, but there was nothing. He'd spun a wonderful future for himself, built on the glory of returning home with a valuable prisoner, but all of that was gone now. Now instead of returning to accolades and promotion all his future held was reprimand and disgrace for the loss of his plane, and now this failure. He gripped the rail and stared down into the foam being created by the prop. Going down in a storm could have happened to anyone... And there was no need for any of this to be in their report, for anyone to find out about the rest, was there? He turned on his comrade and smiled. "Wilhelm..."

g

"Of course you can do it….." Actor's hands deftly followed the pick pocket's movement as he tried to squirm away from him. "Goniff, you've impersonated German soldiers before, this will be no different."

"No different!" The little man gulped in air. "I didn't have to say nothing them other times did I? This general bloke's never gonna b'lieve I'm the Warden. All I gotta do is open me mouth, the game's up, and I blow the whole caper and land in the clink!"

"Nothing like that is going to happen. And don't sell yourself short." the con man soothed. "You do a wonderful American accent. I've heard you do a nearly perfect impersonation of each one of us…"

"Down at the pub!" he squeaked as he spun out of the con artist's grasp and put a little distance between them by heading for the liquor cabinet. "When I've 'ad a drink or two…"

Actor continued, reasonably, ignoring Goniff's objections "… and this man has never met the Warden before."

"Yeah? They might a talked on the phone though, right?"

"And the connection would have been so bad," the con man countered, "that he would still never know the difference."

"But, but what if he wants to talk military stuff?" Goniff whined as he desperately tried to wheedle his way out of the part Actor was insisting he play. "I don't know nothing 'bout military stuff and…"

"That's not what he is coming here for. He is coming to hear what happened when Captain Ward died and you were there at the time…" Actor sidestepped around one of the leather chairs, blocking the cat burglar's progress towards his liquid courage. "If he should start asking anything too technical just tell him you are very sorry but the information is classified and he will have to get it from General Fremont."

Goniff looked longingly at the locked cabinet for a moment before giving up on it and deciding on an even more practical course of action. Feeling behind with his left hand he started to slowly back away from the group's second in command. "What if he's already got General Fremont's OK to ask them kinda questions? What about that, then?"

Actor carefully advanced on the reluctant impersonator, expertly herding him with subtle adjustments to his own course. "Unless he has documented orders from General Fremont to you, … to Lieutenant Garrison, that he can produce on demand, directing him,… you, to divulge sensitive details of the mission…"

"Blimey! Do it in English, Actor." Goniff's fingers waved wildly behind his back as he took two quick steps backwards.

"We will stall him…" Actor moved slightly to his left and took another step… just a little bit more, he thought, and he'd have him. "You will say you have to call Fremont to confirm and then you will tell him the General is in a meeting and you are very sorry but he cannot be disturbed….." one more step…

Goniff took another hasty step backwards, the end of the sofa connected with the back of his knees and he sat down with a bit of a jolt. "Blimey!" _Trapped!_ Goniff laid his head in his hands, shrugging his Italian teammate's hand away when he felt it brush his shoulder. "I'm gonna get shot for this."

" …Now stop moving around so I can get this tie done properly."

Actor pushed the little cockney's hands down out of the way and took a firm grip on the government issue necktie, he slipped the knot up between the collar tabs. The big man pulled his teammate from his perch, set him on his feet, and turned the little cat burglar around to face the mirror.

"Bloody Hell!" Goniff peered at his reflection, he'd tried to convince Actor that he didn't have the right clothes to pull the job off when he first pitch the con…

"_What about a uniform, then? That bloke won't believe the Warden walks 'round in these." Goniff pulled at the pockets of his utility coveralls…It was his last chance and the best argument he could come up with._

"_All you need is a clean pair of pants and a shirt. We can get one down in the guards quarters. We'll have to find someone who will let you borrow a pair of shoes…"_

"_We!" He followed Actor down the hall as the con man set off on his hunt... no body ever listened to him!_

"…_and we can get a set of bars for the collar from the Warden's room."_

….but he had to admit it. He looked pretty good! Maybe he could pull it off after all.

"Stand up straight." Actor ordered

Goniff stiffened into his version of 'attention' and tried to toss off a military salute. After a moment his confidence evaporated and he reverted to his normal slouch. "This ain't never gonna work."

"You won't have to salute him." The con man informed him as his critical eye swept over the image in the mirror. They'd 'borrowed' several items from around the mansion. The insignia on the shirt's collar came from the Warden's room, the shirt itself from a supply of uniforms held here in reserve by the guards in the event of an unexpected inspection. The trousers were Goniff's own, they'd all been given basic uniforms to use when they'd arrived, a good crease pressed into an unused pair was all that had been required. The meticulously shinned shoes and a belt had been borrowed from a sympathetic clerk.

Goniff tugged at the tie's knot and glared at Actor's reflection in the mirror. "Ee's a ruddy _General_ a 'course I gotta salute 'im!"

"No! You are inside. You will not be wearing a uniform cap," he reminded the pick pocket of the rules of military etiquette the Warden drilled them on when they first started working together. "You do _not_ salute him…." the con man pressed a stiffened finger into the little man's back, "…but you must remember to stand up _straight_!"

g

It was almost immediate. After the bark from the pistol there was another sharp sound echoing across the water and a split second later another, as the master of the boat manipulated the engine into a backfire. Leaving his second at the helm he raced onto the deck.

"What do you two think you're playing at? Do you want to get us all killed?" The captain wrested the gun away from the man standing at the rail and turned it on the two Germans. He had to fight the impulse to kill them on the spot and dump their bodies overboard, but there was already one corpse out there that might come back to haunt them. The captain peered over the side and spotted the body as it surfaced astern. "Michael take these idiots below," he ordered. "Archie, come about and run him down!"


	11. Chapter 11

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No one knocked on the large front door, at least no one in uniform. Their manor was a military installation, quite attractive and comfortable, true, but it was not a private residence, and it wasn't treated as such by General Weston's aide-de-camp when he stepped up to the large dark wooden door and prepared to open it so the general could enter. When the door opened before he touched it, and a tall cultured gentleman, in a finely tailored suit, stood smiling in the opening to greet them, he was slightly taken aback. Glancing down the long drive at the guard and barricade he reassured himself that he hadn't made some sort of error and arrived at a private estate by mistake.

Actor immediately categorized and discounted the aide and concentrated on the senior officer standing behind him. "General Weston," giving a slight bow he continued. "Won't you please come in, sir."

Weston shouldered past his assistant, calling his instructions back to him as he entered the large house. "Chambers wait with the car. This shouldn't take too long."

Actor closed the large door and turned. Weston wore no overcoat that he could offer to take, and he didn't think he looked like a man who would willingly engage in small talk. That was probably just as well, he had a strong feeling that if they didn't get down to the library Goniff would 'take a runner', as he threatened to do earlier.

"General, if you will just follow me. Lieutenant Garrison is waiting for you in the library." Actor moved smoothly down the hall, picking up speed when he heard the man's measured steps on the wooden floor behind him.

When they arrived in the library General Weston made a quick assessment of the individual standing at attention before him. He knew looks could be deceiving but he wondered how this small, slightly built, man managed to command a top rated commando group. A group made up of convicts, Weston shook his head at the thought, if the reports were accurate. The man appeared pale, and he had a soft sheen of perspiration on his face, but the report said he'd been injured on the mission. Nothing serious, apparently, but he remained on medical leave. "At ease, Lieutenant." General Weston removed his cap and tucked it under his arm. "I'd like to apologize for intruding on your leave, Lieutenant Garrison."

Goniff shot a quick look at Actor for direction and got it by a barely inclined head.

"It's no intrusion, General Weston." He said in his best American accent. His voice only had a slight quiver in it, his hand only shook a little as he waved the general into the room. "Would you care to sit down, sir? I can offer tea, sir, or coffee if you prefer?"

"I never turn down a cup of coffee, Lieutenant." General Weston moved into the room and quickly took a seat. He knew the young officer would honor protocol and stay on his feet until he was seated. He thought the reports must be wrong, even though there was no obvious sign of injury, the man standing in front of him looked like he might pass out at any moment.

g

Garrison's head barely broke the surface of the water, he tipped his head back and rose just enough to get a lungful of air, before he sank back down out of sight. He could hear the throbbing of the boat's engine underwater but couldn't tell which way it was going. After another quick breath and another tense few moments of waiting and listening he risked a longer time on the surface so he could get a look at what was going on.

After making a couple of runs over his position, and hooking the coat he'd struggled out of to offer up as proof of his demise, out of the water the captain of the boat had finally turned and was running at a shallow angle to the shore. The course he was following was taking the boat further and further out to sea. Staying low in the water Craig turned and scanned the entrance to the harbor. There didn't appear to be any unusual activity, no patrol boat dispatched from shore, so the activity on board hadn't attracted any attention after all. He didn't think the captain would risk a radio transmission back to their contact this close to the harbor where it could be picked up by the military's radio detection units. If he was lucky they'd just go on their way, leaving the two agents on shore to be picked up. He had to set that in motion by notifying the authorities, and to do that he had to reach shore.

Taking a deep breath Garrison lay back in the water and just floated for a moment to collect his energy before starting his one handed crawl for shore. The harbor was still deserted, the few lights allowed on the docks were out now that morning was finally breaking. It took him several minutes but he finally got close enough to make out a shimmering foam when the waves broke on the shingle beach that stretched away to the north and he headed in that direction. It was a shorter distance to the harbor docks but the current was against him, it was headed for that beach just outside the jetty and he didn't have the strength to fight it.

The sound of waves hitting the beach, and the rocks shifting as the water strained through them on its way back out was almost a roar in his ears as he fought his way closer to shore. Pushing over to float on his back in the water he went from actively swimming for the beach, to passively letting the waves carry him in. When he felt the touch of land under him he tried to stand but was swept off his feet and rolled by a wave just breaking on the rocks. Clutching at the gravel he resisted the tug of the water as it tried to pull him back out into the current. He let each incoming wave lift him a little higher onto the gravel, digging in as the water receded until he was finally safely on shore.

Craig rolled onto his back, took a deep breath and let it out. He was exhausted and he had the feeling as he lay there that he was sinking into the gravel. If he didn't get up soon, he thought, he'd disappear under the rock, but he didn't have the strength to do anything more than just lay there for the moment. The rhythm of the waves was enough to lull him into a trance. He didn't have to open his eyes to know that morning was fully on its way now even though clouds had rolled back in and blocked the sun. The birds calling overhead as they made their way out to sea in the gloom announced that fact. He thought again about getting up and even made a couple of half-hearted attempts before he finally dismissed the idea. The harbor was patrolled, eventually someone would come to him.

g

They checked the homes that used the road around the old man's cottage, at least the ones that were occupied, and had the means to transport an injured man from the jeep stranded in the ditch to the comfort of their hearth. There weren't many. The war had emptied the neighborhood of young men as they went off to war, and young women as they went to work in the factories in town. The few that were left were old-age pensioners like their guide..., and they had no luck with any of them, no one had seen or heard anything.

Anyone who opened their door for them got an earful on what the old man thought happened. He'd insisted on coming along to keep an eye on the car thief's accomplices. He'd also insisted they come back to his cottage… to the scene of the crime, to see for themselves that he was telling the truth. He said he didn't want them to think he was just laboring under some sort of delusion brought on by his 'advanced age'. "I know how you young people look on us when there's a bit of grey in our hair!"

The area where the old man parked his car at night was covered and protected from the worst of the storm. From the signs that were left it appeared someone had simply walked up, gotten in the car, and driven off. Chief confirmed that the partial prints that were left weren't the right size to match the Warden, or the old man. The old man admitted leaving the keys in the car was his habit… 'as there's not but honest folks living here abouts… Until you lot, that is!"

When they loaded on the truck and prepared to return to the mansion the old gentleman insisted on coming with them. It was no surprise but Rawlins still tried, vainly, to talk him out of it.

"Sir, there's no need for this. I've told you I'll have the constable come out to get your statement."

"You think I'm completely daft, don't you young man?"

"No sir! I…."

"You just help me up on the back of this thing so I can keep my eye on you. First thing that would happen if I'd let you out of my sight is you'd take to your heels and I'd never lay eyes on you, or my motor car again."

"But I've written out my identification and where I'm stationed…"

"And how am I to know that's not but a load of rubbish, eh? Oh no, you'll not pull the wool over my eyes so easily. Now do as I say and give us a hand up!"

Rawlins finally gave in and hauled the old gentleman up onto the back of the truck… They'd be stopping in the village on the way back to the mansion. He was certain they could 'give him the slip', as the men said, when they stopped to have a word with the constable…

g

There was another sound competing with the sighing of the waves as they continued lapping at the beach. Someone was carefully making their way towards him, taking a few steps, then waiting to see what he'd do before taking a few more. He debated with himself who it would be… Fisherman, constable, a local out beach combing after the storm…

"Hold it right there!"

_Good_, he thought when he heard the mid-Western accent, _Shore patrol. H__e'll know the uniform markings. That'll save me a little time explaining who I am_.

Garrison raised his arm away from where it rested over his eyes and let it fall back against the shingle of the beach. The sun was finally up but the light was low, diffused by the storm clouds that still rode the winds overhead. The Marine made his way carefully forward, his rifle trained on him along with a flash light. As soon as the man was standing over him shinning the light directly into his face he closed his eyes again, against the glare. "There's a fishing boat heading out into the channel," he reported. "It needs to be stopped." Craig fought the exhaustion that still threatened to take over and squinted up into the light. "Corporal I need to get to a phone, if they're working." He took another deep breath and let it out. "And if they're not I'll need to use your radio."

g

As soon as they got word that Garrison's jeep had been found out on the other side of the mansion Corporal Jergens gave the word and they started back at their top speed of thirty miles an hour. He made the decision on his own to stop and pick up the men that had been left in town. Since all the action was obviously taking place further down that second road now, the larger radio would be better able to pick up the Sergeant Major's transmission back on base if the phones went out again.

After collecting the men in town Jergens firmly rejected Casino's demand to continue on and join up with the other truck by reminding him that their orders were to search the road to London and return to base for further instructions. He was a military man, he told him, and bound to follow his superior's commands without question or delay. That was before they were nearly run off the road by three trucks filled with soldiers that pulled off the road not far ahead of them and proceeded to surround a house that sat less than a mile from their front gate.


	12. Chapter 12

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"We haven't been officially informed by the German government about Chuck's death yet. It may be too soon." General Weston toyed with the cup he held, turning it around and around in his hands. "Maybe they didn't find the body, maybe they couldn't identify him,.. Or maybe they are just withholding the information."

"I'm sorry, sir. I can only give you a rough idea of where we had to leave him. There wasn't enough time to take a proper reading to fix the position." Goniff told the man, all the while praying he wouldn't take him up on it and make him point the spot out on a map.

"It doesn't matter Lieutenant, but…." Weston was torn between the facts he'd been given, his personal experience, and the natural desire for a miracle, he gave in to human nature and glanced up. "There couldn't have been any kind of mistake? You're sure he was dead?"

He hesitated for a moment as he considered giving the man the lie he was looking for, but that wouldn't do him or his family any real favor, would it? He settled on the truth and delivered it as kindly as he could. "Yes sir, I'm sure. We wouldn't have left him if there'd been any chance of bringing him out." Goniff knew that for a fact too, he'd seen the look of determination on the Warden's face as they hustled through the woods, he'd heard his voice when he told that captain that he'd see to it he got home, .. And he'd seen the look on Garrison's face, even though he turned away from them into the shadows, when Captain Ward died in his arms.

General Weston was Captain Charles Ward's father-in-law he'd told them when he first arrived. His daughter was pregnant with the couple's first child, the marriage was only about three years old,... and now Charles was dead. Ward had been ahead of the Warden at the Point by one year. He was picked for the same program Garrison went through but opted out when he got married. The experience gave him some of the same training though, enough to go after the information on the gun.

Actor was right, the general was only interested in the facts surrounding his son-in-law's death and in carrying something back to his daughter that would offer her some sort of solace. Goniff remembered Chief's assessment of the captain's condition and passed that information along.

"Captain Ward was in pretty bad shape when we took him off that train, sir. I don't think he would have made it to the next stop,…and I think he knew it, too. I believe he gave up his life getting the information for us."

"I gathered that from your report Lieutenant,… and from your recommendation." Weston studied the cup he held in his hands a moment before he spoke again, his voice was low and full. "I want to thank you for that."

Goniff shot a look at Actor. He didn't know exactly what was in the Warden's report and he didn't know anything about a recommendation, or even what the significance of one might be. Actor took over.

"Captain Ward was a brave man, he should be remembered for his sacrifice," he said quietly.

Weston sat looking at the carpet for a moment. "I know you would have done everything you could, Garrison. I had to ask for my daughter's sake…" He rested his elbows on his knees and looked up. "I've taken up enough of your time, Lieutenant. I want to thank you for taking the time to see me. I hope it hasn't been too much of an inconvenience."

Goniff studied the man for a moment, this wasn't how he thought generals were supposed to act… "It was no bother at all, sir. I only wish I had better news for you to carry back to your daughter."

The older man looked away and cleared his throat, "Well, what you have told me will,… it will mean a great deal to Jean and the baby." General Weston sat the cup aside and got to his feet. Goniff and Actor rose with him and Goniff was ready, this time, when the man extended his hand. "I want to thank you, again, Lieutenant Garrison, for taking the time to talk with me."

Goniff accepted the handshake as he searched for something to say in return. "It was an honor sir…"

Just as they were preparing to see the general safely off the property they heard the door at the far end of the house slam shut and the sound of Casino's voice as it drifted up the hall.

"Hey!" the group's demolitions expert called out. "Where are you guys?" The sound of booted feet headed up the hall towards the library. "You'll never guess what's goin' on down the road!"

g

The little cat burglar shot the con man a look of pure panic as they listened to Casino make his way to the open library door. Actor reflected Goniff's fear of their ultimate discovery when he heard cockney begin to edge out the American accent as the little man tried to keep the general engaged in conversation. But Casino's arrival in the back hall seemed to cover the lapse.

"Man, you won't believe it, but they caught a spy down the road," the safecracker's voice was moving steadily towards them.

The group's second quickly took his leave of them, formally addressing himself to Goniff. "Excuse me, sir, I'll just go see to that." If he could just get to Casino in time he might be able to avert a disaster…., but he wasn't quite quick enough.

Casino appeared in the doorway and stepped up close, face to face with Actor. "A spy, practically right on our doorstep! Can you believe that?" He moved back when the confidence artist tried to leave the library but he didn't move far enough for the big Italian to be able to clear the door and close it behind him. The safecracker had a vague impression of two men in uniform standing near the sofa in the library, he didn't pay too much attention to them, he was too full of news for that.

"Man there's a raid goin' on down the road! We stopped to see what was up and some guy said they got a tip and nabbed themselves a spy! Do you believe that? A spy right here, right in our own neighborhood." The excited con started pacing the hall just in front of the library doors. "Jeeze! The guy was practically sitting at our front door! How 'bout that, huh?" Casino came to a halt and looked up, expecting some kind of reaction from Actor and not getting it, he turned to the others in the room. For the briefest moment he brightened. "Warden! When'd you…" and then it registered just what he was really seeing. "Hey! What d'you think you'r up to, dummy?"

In desperation Actor raised his arm and planted his elbow firmly in the middle of the East coast con's chest. It didn't take much to move the man back. In fact, since the Italian usually did his convincing by argument and logic, they were halfway back out in the hall before the shock wore off and Casino finally realized he was being shoved, dug in and brought them to a halt.

"Hey! Whadda ya think you'r doin, buster?"

Before Casino got his answer Chief pushed through the door at the far end of the hall. He could see the two men in the hall outside the library so that's where he headed. There was no time to intercept him and fill him in on what was going on. Since he didn't know anything was up the young scout started giving the information he figured they were both waiting for.

"There's a wrecker pullin' the Warden's jeep out a the ditch now. We checked the houses for a couple miles either side of the spot… Nobody's seen him." The team's point man frowned when he didn't get any response. As he reached the opening to the library and caught sight of the English pick pocket he asked, "Hey, Goniff, what'r you 'spose to be?"

The general's reaction had quickly gone from confused to concerned, and was now sliding right through anger into self contained rage, when Sergeant Major Rawlins arrived on the scene. Weston was standing apart from the others, still back in the library and Rawlins didn't see him at first.

"Here now! Just what are you two playing at?" Gil caught movement in the library out of the corner of his eye and blanched.

"Caro Dio, che casino!" Actor mumbled, thinking how aptly named Casino was for landing them in this mess by his untimely arrival.

Goniff looked to their second in command for help. Casino and Chief looked to him for answers. Rawlins settled on him because he was always one of the ringleaders….

General Weston just glared at each one of them in turn.

g

Garrison hit the horn a couple of times as he approached the gate. He slowed in preparation for the more formal entry onto the grounds, but hoped the guard would recognize him and just wave him through rather than make him stop and show is identification. When the barrier raised he gunned the engine, shot a grateful salute off to the guard, who returned it with a grin, and kept on going. It was still early... If he was lucky he'd have time to get inside, get cleaned up and into a decent uniform before General Weston showed up.

The vehicle had hardly stopped rolling before his feet were on the ground and he was limping as fast as he could towards the stairs that led to the formal entry of the mansion the unit called 'home'. Garrison was about half-way up the steps when something caught his eye. He swore under his breath and kept moving, increasing his speed. Apparently he wasn't going to be lucky. Parked off in a corner, under a tree, was a staff car, complete with driver leaning against the fender… there was a general's star painted on the side of the car. He opened the large front door, still hoping he'd have a chance to slip upstairs unnoticed but…

Casino caught sight of him as soon as the door opened. "Jeeze! Warden what the Hell happened to you?" And with that comment all eyes turned towards him…. He was caught.

g

Garrison's eyes flicked rapidly between the men gathered in the doorway to the entrance to the library and landed squarely on a pick pocket dressed in an American Army uniform. He headed for him, demanding, "Alright, Goniff, just what are you trying to pull!"

"Blimey," Goniff's shock turned instantly to relief when he saw who was standing in the hall. "Warden!" Then he looked down at his 'borrowed' uniform and immedicatly started edging towards Actor… It was all the con man's idea anyway, wasn't it?

"What's the meaning of this intrusion?" Weston elbowed his way through the knot of men standing in the doorway and scowled his displeasure at a disheveled young man who'd just added himself to the crowd that had interrupted them. "Who the Hell are you?"

"Lieutenant, we were simply entertaining General Weston until your return…" Actor ignored their guest and started to explain to their irritated leader.

"Lieutenant?" Weston gazed from Actor, to the little man dressed in a lieutenant's uniform standing next to him, then turned on the newcomer. "_You're_ Garrison?"

And leaving Goniff and Actor with a look that promised trouble in the not so distant future, Craig turned his full attention on one very annoyed general. "Yes, sir. General Weston?"

Weston pulled himself up to his full height, stalked away from the crowd and came to a stop just inches from the newly identified officer's nose. "Garrison aren't you aware that officers are to be presentable at all times?"

Garrison came to rigid attention and snapped out his answer. "Yes sir!"

The general stepped a little closer, his voice even louder. "You mean you are _not _aware of that Lieutenant?"

"No sir… I'm sorry, sir." He could hear Casino's snort of laughter from somewhere out of sight behind Weston but he didn't dare move a muscle in response. "Yes sir, I _am_ aware of that, sir," he amended his answer. He stood up a little straighter and pulled at the Navy pea jacket . He didn't have to look down to know that his uniform trousers had dried into a maze of wrinkles, and he tried his best to stand absolutely still because his shoes tended squelched when he shifted his weight

"Then just what is the meaning of _this_?" He gestured at the cobbled together outfit the young man was wearing but he didn't bother waiting for an answer as he clasped his hands together behind his back and started to pace. "Garrison, have you been in fight or a wreck of some kind?"

"Yes sir."

"Let me guess…. You spent a little too long at the pub last night, they tossed you out and then you ran your car off the road?"

"Sir…." Garrison started to explain but the fire in the general's eye informed him he was in for a full dressing down and he decided there probably wasn't anything he could say or do to get out of it.

"And are you in the habit of allowing your men to cover for you in this manner?" Weston jerked his thumb at Goniff. "No need to answer that, Lieutenant. I suppose, since you are unaware of the uniform regulations, you are also ignorant of the fact that enlisted men can be court-marshaled for impersonating officers!"

"Not this man, sir." Garrison managed to growl in Goniff's direction.

"What?"

"Civilian specialist…." Goniff grinned and slipped in with no little cockiness, still using Actor as a shield.

"Goniff!" Garrison took a halting step towards the little pick pocket who slipped back behind his larger teammate for protection.

Actor decided to go on the offensive …. He'd been observing without interpreting because of the shock of having Garrison finally appear, but he was in no mood to wait through General Weston's little tirade before he got to the bottom of the mystery they'd been embroiled in for the last twenty-four hours. "Warden would you kindly explain to us just where have you been since yesterday?"

"On a drunken binge by the look of him." Weston snorted.

Actor turned to silence the man. "General I am afraid I must ask you to please control your temper and remain quiet until we get this sorted out."

"What!…" General Weston took a step towards the major domo and then halted, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Garrison. "I take it you're another one of his 'civilian specialists'?

"Yes," Actor's smile was tight. "I'm afraid I am." The group's confidence man turned back to their commander and demanded. "Now, will you please explain just where you've been and exactly what has happened to you?"

After that it was just a loud jumble of words as the men crowded around their missing leader and clamored for an account of where he'd been, Rawlins pleaded, vainly, for order, and Garrison, single-mindedly pursued an explanation for Goniff being dressed as an officer.

Weston's order of "Silence!" was still echoing from the walls and the old suit of armor was still vibrating when the large front door opened, again, and Dr Phillips strolled in.

All eyes shifted to the doctor bearing down on them and then back to Garrison when he said, "I think I need to sit down."

Phillips checked on seeing the general and acknowledged the senior officer with a smile and casual salute before continuing on to his target. Westin watched the scene, open mouthed, his hand automatically rising to return the salute before he caught himself.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on in this madhouse?" But the General's question was lost in the shuffle as the group moved back into the library. He was persistent though and reiterated the request in a little stronger terms as soon as the crowd seemed to settle. "I demand to know what this is all about!" Turning on Garrison, who was now sitting at the desk that took up the corner of the room, he fixed him with a black gaze, "Lieutenant get started."

And for the next several minutes the Warden recounted his adventures, with the others adding their bits when the time was right.

g

"So I borrowed some clothes, grabbed a jeep and headed back here to meet you, sir." Garrison explained, which caused a snort from the group's explosives expert.

Casino turned on the general standing in their midst. "Lemme interpret that for you; He swiped some clothes, boosted a jeep and went on the lam to get away from the likes a him." Casino jerked a thumb towards Phillips.

Before Garrison even got an objection to that statement organized Phillips cut in, "Did you think when you went missing they wouldn't contact Colonel Reynolds? Did you think as soon as he found out he wouldn't call me? …. And did you really think I wouldn't have any idea where to come looking for you?" The doctor stepped to the side of the chair the Warden was sitting in and motioned for Actor to do the same. "If you grab him from that side I think we can haul him out to my car, he doesn't look like he's in any condition to resist."

"Now wait just one minute." Garrison looked up at the two towering over him and protested as they pulled him to his feet and started to move away from the desk towards the door. "They checked me out at the harbor and I'm fine! I don't need to…"

"A corpsman checked you out at the harbor after you called Colonel Reynolds," Dr Phillips interjected. "He gave you basic first aid, loaned you a coat so you wouldn't freeze to death, and called for an ambulance. I think he expected you to wait for it." The doctor fingered the lapel of the heavy woolen garment. "And I'm pretty sure he expected to get this back."

The phone on the desk rang and the Warden twisted around and tried to get to it but Actor beat him to it.

The group's Italian second in command listened for a moment, pressing the receiver to his ear to hear through the static that still plagued the line. "Would you repeat that please... Yes, I will give him the message." He turned to the Lieutenant and said, "That was a Sergeant Skelton. He asked me to tell you that they have the boat, with all hands, and the woman. He said that 'the 'Kraut is singing like a bird'. And that the second unit has picked up 'the other one'... He requests that you return at your earliest convenience to positively identify the two civilians."

Garrison pulled free and headed for the door. "I'd better get back there..." But Dr. Phillips just fell into step with him, wrapping a hand firmly around his elbow.

"Come on Lieutenant," Phillip ignored the protests. "All of that can wait until tomorrow. I've got a nice private room all warmed up and ready to go. You look like you could use a little rest after your big adventure, so as soon as I check you out we'll leave you alone in there and…"

_Alone! _That's how all of this had gotten started! "No. Really, there's no need… You heard Actor, they need me back at the..." From the look he got from Dr. Phillips he knew that 'duty first' line wasn't going to work on him this time. He tried for a compromise. "Look, I'll be fine. I can just take it easy around here…" The Warden started to actively resist but when the con man joined the doctor again he seemed to realize that he no match for the two men that had hold of him, or the three that were backing them up. He quietly allowed them to maneuvered him into the hall and towards the front entrance.

The door slammed and silence descended on the two men left in the hall. The only sound, for a moment, was the ticking from the large clock in the library. After a few seconds General Weston turned on the British NCO standing next to him. "Is it always like this here?"

And without thinking Rawlins brought his hand up and rubbed at his forehead, shook his head, and answered, "You've got no blooming idea." Gil's eyebrows shot up to meet his receding hairline and he paled as he realized what he'd just said and who he'd just said it to, but before he could pull himself up to attention and offer an apology their attention was again pulled back to the door when it creaked open.

Garrison slipped through the door and closed it carefully behind him. He looked up and started in their direction. "General Weston, sir, before I take off for headquarters, I just wanted to…." but he came to a halt as Casino's loud voice filtered through the door.

"Jeeze! I told ya not to turn your back on him!"

Garrison glanced at the stairs to his right but took another halting step towards them, indecision clearly written on his face.

General Weston gave a snort and took command of the situation, releasing the young man with a shooing motion of his hand. Faster than he would have thought possible, considering the limp, Weston watched the lieutenant disappear up the stairs. He turned back to the door when it opened again and the men boiled back through.

Casino was in the lead and the others piled up behind him when he stopped on the threshold and launched a demand at the two men still standing outside the library. "Well?"

Weston and Rawlins shared a glance, the general's mouth edged up in a private smile and he followed the Sergeant Major's lead as the man turned and pointed down the hall at a door tucked under the stairs. They listened as the posse clattered down the stairs into the kitchen and then took the next set of stairs down into the storerooms below.

General Weston turned on the British NCO and Gil stiffened to attention. "At ease Sergeant Major." He waited for the man to adopt the 'at rest' stance before he continued. "Sergeant, did that little fake lieutenant tell me the truth?"

"Yes, sir. If he told you they did their best by Captain Ward and finished his job for him he did, sir…" Rawlins took a step forward, prepared to defend his CO and the men that followed him. "Sir, I don't want you to think that…"

But Weston put up a hand to stop him. "As you were, Sergeant Major." The General started towards the door but stopped a few steps from it and turned and looked up the stairs then back at Rawlins. "Tell that young man I appreciate everything that he did."

"I'll do that, sir."

g

General Weston stepped out onto the broad steps that made up the entrance to the mansion. The storm clouds were gone now and the building was bathed in warm morning light. He luxuriated in the reflected heat for a moment before he made his way down the stairs to the car that was parked on the gravel drive, and the doctor who casually leaned back against it.

"He just wants to finish what he started, you know?" He offered up in defense of the young man he only knew by the reports he'd read and the action of his men.

"Yes, sir. I know that….and I'll probably let him." Phillips smiled. "After a little negotiation."

"You'll see to it he gets taken care of though?"

"Oh, yes sir. I'll see to that."

Weston nodded and took his leave. He walked over to where his own car and driver waited in the shade of the trees. "Come on Chambers," he called out. "Let's get out of here. I think I need a drink."

"But, General!" The junior officer turned his wrist up to check his watch, there was a note of scandal in his voice. "It's only…"

"John," Weston cut him off. "I don't care if you are my favorite nephew. And I know my sister wouldn't approve, so you don't have to quote her to me… But if that pub we passed on the way out here is open, we're stopping and I'm going in. Now, are you going to climb in there and drive this thing,.. or do you want me to take the wheel?"


End file.
